


Don't Let Me Forget

by LittleLynn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia fic, Derek accidentily wishes away his memoies, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Massive fluff, Memory Loss, Mild Angst, Set vaguely between season 3 and 4, Stiles is 17 as usual, Stiles smells like home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles barely had time to smash the brakes before running Derek over as he swung into his driveway to find him standing there.</p><p>“Dude!” Stiles said clambering out of the jeep, “Didn’t your wolfy senses tingle and tell you to get out of the way?” Derek looked tense, like his hackles were raised (Ha. Dog jokes.) He cocked his head and sniffed the air, then he visibly relaxed and fixed Stiles with a soft stare. “You okay there Sourwolf?” </p><p>“What’s my name?” Stiles thought Derek was pulling his leg.</p><p>“Um, Derek?” Stiles replied confused.</p><p>“My name is Derek?”</p><p>“Yeah, Derek Hale. Don’t you remember?”</p><p>“No.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Me Forget

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to only be 10k. I don't know what happened.
> 
> I have no beta and as usual, the proof read was minimal on my part. So feel free to point out any crappy spelling, grammar or briticisms that slipped through.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

 

 

Derek was sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, it was about 4am. His senses told him there was only one other person anywhere near him, wandering slowly down the road, headed in his general direction, but she wasn’t a threat, not to Derek.

He is just letting the rain wash over him; like he is trying to wash himself away. He can’t help but think that everyone would have been better off without him, all he’s ever done was get people killed. First Paige, then his family, then Laura and he had Erica and Boyd’s blood on his hands as well.

They’d been so close to losing Stiles to the Nogitsune, it felt like watching a family – _pack_ – member slip through his fingers, helpless to stop them. He hadn’t realised just how far under his skin Stiles had gotten until he almost lost him. He _wanted_ him. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t deserve someone as bright and beautiful and selfless as Stiles. He didn’t deserve anything.

He’d barely even been able to register Allison’s death he was so wound up in Stiles. But Stiles was okay now, although Derek knew he wasn’t as fine as his smiles suggested, he could smell the anxiety the fear coming off him in a way it never had before. Derek knew he felt guilty about Allison, he didn’t know how to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Most nights he lapped the neighbourhood, making sure the pack was safe, he wasn’t the alpha anymore, but he still felt responsible for them, the fractured little pack just another thing that was his fault. He wasn’t even sure he was part of this pack anymore.

He _knew_ Stiles still woke up screaming, a few nights after he started lapping the neighbourhood he had been passing the Stilinski house and heard him. Then again a few nights later. And again. And again.

At some point he had stopped covering the whole neighbourhood and started just sitting outside Stiles’ house, hidden in the shadows. He waited until Stiles screamed himself awake, he waited while his father comforted him if he was in, or while Stiles calmed himself if he wasn’t. He waited just long enough to make sure he was okay, then he went home. He felt like he was helping, even if Stiles didn’t know he was there. Truth was Stiles was helping him, giving him some sort of purpose.

He could sense the attraction on Stiles as easily as he returned it. It would be so easy to take what he wanted and keep it forever. But Stiles didn’t need him, was better off without him, just like everybody else. That didn’t stop him checking on him every night.

Stiles had calmed himself back to sleep for the night, but Derek didn’t want to go back to the loft yet. It didn’t feel safe anymore, not with the reappearance of Kate, taunting him from afar.

She had brought back all the memories of his family, what he did to them. Made their death seem even more pointless, he hadn’t even managed to avenge them properly. He missed his family, needed his mom, moment’s like this he realised just how much. But he couldn’t have them back, he’d lost them and now they were gone for good. The memories only made it harder, they’d never managed to completely return to happy memories, instead they just made him sad.

His family was gone, the bitch that murdered them still as alive as his own guilt, his pack had crumbled, none of them really needed him anymore – that hurt more than he expected it to – and they were better off without him anyway. They would’ve been better off if he had never prowled into their lives.

“I wish I could just forget everything,” he murmured into the night.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was chewing on the string of his favourite red hoodie, everyone was sprawled out in Derek’s loft, they still used it for pack meetings even though Scott was the alpha now, it wasn’t a conscious decision, they’d just never bothered to change location. Besides, it was a good open space, other places would seem cramped after this.

He spat the string out of his mouth when the conversation lulled and the pack meeting seemed to be winding up.

“Um, does anyone know where Derek is? ‘Cause were having a pack meeting – which he never misses – in _his_ loft, and he is nowhere to be found.”

“I assumed he was just out doing, um Derek stuff?” Scott answers honestly, Stiles could tell because he may not be a werewolf, but Scott is a terrible liar so he would’ve known. Everyone else nodded with Scott’s words. At least they had noticed he was missing, Stiles was beginning to worry he was the only one.

“But he never misses a pack meeting, like, _ever_.”

“It is a tad odd,” Peter interjected from his perch on the stairs, “But I did see him last night, popping out for his evening… _stroll”_ he said with a smug smirk at something obviously only he understood. Stiles couldn’t help it, Peter still gave him the creeps.

“Great. Has anyone seen him since our resident undead creeper did?” They all shook their heads, no one seeming particularly concerned. Stiles knew it wasn’t because they didn’t care, but because it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since someone had seen him, and of course, their resident sourwolf could handle himself. Still, Stiles couldn’t help but find it frustrating, seriously, Derek had never missed a meeting.

“I’m sure he’s fine Stiles, if he was in trouble he could just howl and we would hear him,” Scott reassured, smiling at Stiles.

“Yeah, I guess.” He still thought something was off though.

They watched some films, Stiles had forced Derek to get a TV in the loft as it looked like he would be spending a considerable amount of time there (and WiFi), ate popcorn and lazed around together. It felt nice, full of comfortable bickering and teasing, it felt like family (Stiles guessed that was what pack was supposed to feel like) but it also felt like someone was missing.

It was dark out by the time Stiles was clambering into his beloved blue jeep.

“Come on baby don’t give up on me now,” Stiles pleaded as the engine stuttered, “Just start for me baby and I’ll take you to the garage tomorrow, I promise” he cooed, Stiles fist pumped as it choked to life, smacking his hand on the roof in the process. “Ow.” He muttered to himself.

Stiles barely had time to smash the brakes before running Derek over as he swung into his driveway to find him standing there.

“Dude!” Stiles said clambering out of the jeep, “Didn’t your wolfy senses tingle and tell you to get out of the way?” Derek looked tense, like his hackles were raised (Ha. Dog jokes.) He cocked his head and sniffed the air, then he visibly relaxed and fixed Stiles with a soft stare. “You okay there Sourwolf?”

“What’s my name?” At first Stiles thought Derek was pulling his leg, but there was something so sincere and vulnerable in his expression, not his usual blank mask.

“Um, Derek?” Stiles replied confused.

“My name is Derek?”

“Yeah, Derek Hale. Don’t you remember?” Now he was getting less confused and more worried.

“No.”

“You don’t remember your name?”

“No.”

“Wait, so you do remember your name?”

“No,” he huffed, clearly struggling, “I don’t remember _anything_.” Stiles gulped. This was bad. Like really really, bad.

“Do you remember what you are?”

“I’m a werewolf. That’s the only thing I can remember.” Stiles couldn’t help his relief, this would be bad enough without having to find some way to teach a werewolf how to control himself. That being said, would Derek remember what his anchor was? Stiles decided he would deal with that potential problem if it actually became an issue.

“How did you end up here then?” It couldn’t be random, he could’ve shown up anywhere in Beacon Hills.

“I caught a scent. It was familiar. I thought maybe I lived here?” That was weird, Stiles thought, surely Derek would know what his own home smelt like? Maybe he didn’t spend enough time at the loft for it to really feel like a home.

“Why, what does it smell like?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He got a frustrated look but continued, “Like, warmth and love, like home.” Stiles guessed that made sense, there may only be the Stilinski men in the house now, but there was an awful lot of love there. Not that that really explained why it smelt like home to Derek, Stiles just shrugged it off and assumed his house was the first one of the pack that he caught the scent of.

“Well. I guess that makes sense, pack and all. But, um, I live here, not you.”

“Oh. But it-.” Derek scrunched his face up, clearly wanting to say more but cutting himself off, “You’re cold, you should go inside. Can I. Nowhere else seems familiar, I don’t know where to go.”

“In which case, _we_ should go inside, and you should stay until we can figure this clusterfuck of a situation out, come on big guy.”

Stiles led the way indoors and couldn’t help but notice how close Derek was staying, he wasn’t touching him but Stiles could feel his body heat against his back. He desperately wanted to lean back into him, relent to the futile crush he’s harboured for a while, not to mention the crazy attraction he’d had since day one out in the woods. But that would be taking advantage, and far too close to what Kate did for Stiles to let himself.

Stiles trudged up to his bedroom, Derek close to his heels and flung himself down on his bed, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He was too tired for this shit. He was starting to force his brain to formulate a plan when Derek spoke.

“I, you feel familiar, I know I know you. But I can’t.” Derek lets out a frustrated little whine.

“Hey, don’t worry. Can’t what?”

“I can’t remember your name. But I know I should! Forget smelling it, I can _feel_ that I know you.” Stiles guessed that was a pack thing too, maybe his plan should be to get Derek around all things familiar as soon as possible, try and jog his memory.

“Sorry dude, my bad, I should’ve said when you said you’d forgotten everything. It’s Stiles. Token human.” He said with a grin, trying to alleviate some of Derek’s uneasiness; although he seemed to find Stiles a comfort.

“Stiles.” He said as if testing the word, rolling it around on his tongue.

“Remember it?”

“Not really. It’s like, my brain’s forgotten you but something else remembers you. I would know if you were missing even though I can’t remember a thing about you. I’m not explaining it well.”

“Nah I get it. Must be a pack thing.”

“Maybe.” Derek replied thoughtfully.

Derek was stood in the doorway awkwardly fidgeting, like he wanted to come closer but wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“You alright dude?”

“Yes, I just-” Derek took a tentative step towards Stiles before stopping himself again. “Can I?” he asked. Stiles wasn’t sure what exactly he meant, but he figured it wasn’t like Derek was going to hurt him. He wasn’t even throwing Stiles against walls and giving him awkward boners.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” Derek stepped forward and buried his head in Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply. This was not what Stiles was expecting, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this sure as hell wasn’t it. Derek cautiously bought his arms up to encircle Stiles and continued to breathe him in. He could swear he felt a tongue sneak out against his neck and knew that he needed to stop this or Derek was going to be able to smell his arousal real soon, if he couldn’t already.

Stiles gently pushed Derek away, he would _not_ take advantage of him in this vulnerable state, even if he had to repeat it like a mantra to himself for as long as it lasted.

“Er, better?” He asked awkwardly.

“Yeah. Your smell, it’s grounding. Safe.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Stiles smiled, only a little awkwardly. “Right well, I’m gunna pass out, I’ll just grab the air bed and some bedding, oh, and a pump, you should probably stay in here with me.” He wandered down the hall to his dad’s bedroom and grabbed the stuff out of his wardrobe, dragging it back to his room.

“Right, I’m just going to brush my teeth and change, I’ll do the bed in a minute.” Stiles said sleepily as he wandered to the bathroom. When he got back the bed was pumped and made, laid out right beside the edge of Stiles’ double.

“Oh, thanks for doing that. I guess you remember how shit works then, just everything specific to your life that’s gone?” It was a half question, as Stiles knew he was right, Derek nodded to confirm anyway. “Don’t worry Sourwolf, we’ll get on your situation in the morning. Good thing it’s the holidays because I would not want to deal with this and school.”

It was only then that Stiles really clocked what Derek was wearing; it was his standard leather jacket, tight jeans, white v-neck combo, an outfit that never failed to make Stiles ogle and drool. What occurred to him now though, was that it wasn’t exactly suitable sleeping attire.

“Man, you can’t sleep in that. I have some sweatpants that are too big for me, they should be alright.” He rummaged around in his draw and tossed them at Derek when he found them. “Bathroom is down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks,” Derek answered, voice more open and sincere than Stiles has ever heard it before, it tugged at his chest a little.

He was expecting Derek to come back in the sweatpants and his shirt; however, what he got was an eyeful of Derek’s washboard abs that he just wanted to _lick_ every time he saw. Stiles realised he was staring and tore his eyes away, unable to look at Derek, he could feel the blush sneaking up his neck and dived under his covers to escape. He was a horrible person. Derek was confused and lost and Stiles was thinking about licking him. Actually, Stiles thought with a start, Derek may have forgotten everything, but he didn’t exactly seem lost.

“Could you get the light?” Stiles said, somewhat sheepishly from under his comforter. Derek got the light and slipped under the cover on the air bed and they both drifted off to sleep.

 

Stiles could feel the tendrils of the Nogitsune seeping into his mind, building walls he couldn’t escape from, locked inside himself and forced to watch as the Nogitsune took life after life. He pushed against the darkness but it smothered him, cutting him off but forcing him to watch.

“Stiles! Stiles!” He was being shaken awake by Derek, his voice and hands frantic, “Stiles wake up!” Stiles woke, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face, voice hoarse from screaming as it always was. He dragged in ragged gulps of air, trying to stop his tears and regain his voice. Derek was holding his face, then running his hands frantically over his shoulders, arms, chest, trying to reassure himself, look for injuries.

“It’s okay. It’s okay Derek I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” he said, voice barely there, scratching at his throat.

“It didn’t seem like just a bad dream,” Derek replied anxiously, hands holding on to the front of Stiles’ night shit, like he is worried he might slip away.

“Yeah, well, a little while ago I was possessed by an evil spirit that killed a lot of people. Guess it left a few scars.” Stiles had been going for flippancy, but even to his own ears he sounded a little broken.

Derek made a light growl and gathered Stiles up to his chest, as if he was trying to protect him from his own past. Stiles thought it was ironic, if anyone needed protection from their past it was Derek, not that he would know right now. He knew he should pull away, but the contact helped and he didn’t have the energy to fight, so instead he sunk into Derek’s warmth.

“I should have protected you. How could I allow that to happen?” Derek growled, apparently angry at his past self from something he couldn’t possibly have helped.

“It’s not your fault. Not anyone’s fault really. Didn’t even know what had happened until it was too late.”

“‘S not an excuse.” Stiles was about to protest that it was actually a pretty good excuse, but then Derek was burring his face in Stiles’ neck and made a barely audible wolfy-whinging sound.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned; Derek just pushed his face further into Stiles’ neck, “Hey, Sourwolf, what is it?”

“You smell of grief and fear. You should never smell of those things.” He said softly into Stiles’ neck. “You smell of guilt too, but it wasn’t your fault.” Stiles stiffened slightly, only making Derek squeeze him tighter, he’d never been able to shake the guilt, even though his rational mind _knew_ it wasn’t his fault. A traitorous part of his brain would say _you should’ve fought harder, then maybe Allison would still be alive_ , even though he knew he couldn’t have.

“I can’t help it. I feel responsible, feel like Allison was my fault. I can’t shake it” He whispered, knowing Derek’s hearing would pick it up.

“You shouldn’t feel responsible for things that weren’t your fault.” He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in his chest, stark and sad in the quiet. “What?” Derek asked.

“Nothing. Just, something I try to tell you sometimes. Promise me that when we get your memories back you’ll remember you said that, that you’ll believe it.” Stile implored, even though he knew Derek wouldn’t really understand.

“I promise, if you will stop blaming yourself too.” Derek hadn’t even seemed curious about what Stiles had meant, surely he wanted to know what he had forgotten?

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try.”

“Good.” Now that he had calmed down from his dream, Derek’s closeness and breath on his neck started to register. He suddenly became very aware of all the places they were touching; Derek’s face in his neck, his knees bracketing Stiles in, Stiles’ back against his solid but surprisingly comfortable chest. Stiles thought he felt the room get a few degrees hotter.

Reluctantly, he tried to pull away from Derek, but Derek held him fast.

“Shh, just, go back to sleep.” He murmured into Stiles’ ear, his voice was soothing and Stiles felt himself being lulled easily back to sleep, the wolf’s heartbeat steady and reassuring behind him. As the stillness of sleep started to take him, Stiles felt Derek slip out from behind him and tuck him back into bed. He thought he felt a hand brush lightly against his cheek, but he couldn’t be sure.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles stretched out like a cat as he started to wake, his morning wood rubbing deliciously against the sheets. He was rutting lazily against the mattress, still half asleep when he heard Derek snuffling in his sleep and was quickly reminded that he wasn’t the only one in the room.

Shit. Stiles thought to himself. He peered over the side of the bed to see Derek who was thankfully still fast asleep. Less thankfully his covers had been all but pushed off, Stiles’ erection throbbed at the sight of Derek sprawled out, ridiculous chest on view.

Stiles managed to sneak out of the room without knocking anything over – which was only made more difficult by the erection his was sporting – and disappeared into the bathroom. He hopped into the shower and jerked himself off quickly, feeling even more guilty than he normally did about picturing Derek, but not bothering to try to think of anything else; other fantasies inevitably morphed into tall dark and broody anyway.

Stiles had long since resigned himself to his pathetic crush on their resident creeper wolf. At first it had just been a healthy dose of lust that had expedited Stiles’ realisation that he was an equal opportunity kind of dude. But then he got to know Derek, realised what a big heart he had, how much guilt he carried, what Kate did to him. And they just kept saving each other, before they even liked each other they had trusted one another pretty much unconditionally.

Unfortunately, Stiles had eyes and a mirror. Derek looked like he had been carved out of marble and Stiles was just, well, Stiles. Awkward and annoying with pale skin and silly moles. Guy’s like Derek didn’t go for average guys like Stiles, even if they were into dudes, and Stiles had only ever seen Derek with girls.

So Stiles deals with it, he helps out by doing research and tries to keep the pack safe by keeping them informed (and having slightly less shitty plans than Scott) and when he gets home he masturbates to the thought of Derek and tries not to feel like a bad person afterwards. Most of the time, he manages it.

But right now Derek doesn’t have his memories, can’t remember all the reasons he deprives himself of happiness (which is all bullshit anyway, Derek deserves to be happy, he’s been through enough). So he’s letting himself give in to his touchy feely wolfy side, all that affection because he can’t remember why he never used to let himself. And Stiles can’t decide if he should tell him or not.

Because he _knows_ that his Derek, Derek with all his memories would not be soothing him back to sleep or snuggling into his neck. So however much Stiles might want him too, and however much Derek might think he wants to, Stiles knows better, so he shouldn’t really be letting him, should he?

On the other hand, for what would probably be only a little while, Derek is free of his past, free of all the things that made his life a constant misery. Shouldn’t Stiles let him enjoy that while he can?

Stiles groaned as he climbed out the shower, this was all too complicated. He was going to deal with this mess one step at a time and try not to overthink everything.

He was downstairs, grabbing plates and bowls for some breakfast when he heard a distressed rumble from his room.

“You alright big guy?” He shouted, not that he needed too, werewolf hearing and all. Derek materialised in the kitchen making Stiles jump – stupid werewolf speed – looking all agitated again. “What’s up?”

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” He mumbled at the floor, clearly a little embarrassed. “It was, disorientating, I worried.”

“Oh, sorry Sourwolf, but you could hear me right?”

“Yes, but not immediately. Took me a little while to tune in. Thought something had happened.”

“Nope, I’m fine. Not exactly the prime target when it comes to supernatural attacks as I couldn’t be less of a threat. Like I said, token human here.” Stiles laughed depreciatingly and Derek frowned, still looking agitated.

“Can I?” He asked, reaching out slightly, hands twitching. At least Stiles knew what he meant this time so he was prepared for Derek to bury himself in his neck when he nodded. Derek made a content noise and let his hot breath out over Stiles’ neck and shoulder while he frantically thought of things like dead puppies and his dad or Scott naked. Stupid teenage hormones.

Suddenly Derek was shoving Stiles behind him and crouching in front of him defensively, letting out a low dangerous growl. Stiles was about to ask _what the fuck, dude?_ When his dad came through the front door, just finishing the night shift. Derek just growled louder and started forward, Stiles only just had time to frantically grab Derek which wouldn’t stop him, but did at least make him pause long enough to listen.

“Derek! Derek chill! That’s my dad, he lives here, not a threat to me or you.” Derek stopped and sniffed the air, clearly verifying this through his senses before retreating and looking a bit sheepish, he still stood very close to Stiles.

“Sorry, I though-.”

“’S okay dude. But my dad is kind of extended pack, shouldn’t you have smelt that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I can now but when he was coming in I was just using my ears, I was worried so I acted without checking. Sorry.”

“No worries, no harm done.” Stiles was aiming for nonchalance, but really he was quite touched that Derek was so worried about him. That, and he’d never once admitted he was wrong before, it was nice.

“Er, Stiles?” Stiles’ eyes snapped up to his father’s tired and confused ones, “Any particular reason why a shirtless werewolf is in my kitchen and was sending me a death glare? Want to fill me in son?”

“Right. Short version. Found Derek in the driveway last night, he’s lost all of his memories. We’re going to start working on fixing it today.” Stiles is extremely glad he doesn’t have to lie to his dad anymore, not only was it putting a serious strain on their relationship, but he had no idea how he would’ve lied this one away.

The sheriff sighed and pointed at Stiles, “You, with me,” Then he pointed at Derek who was still all but clinging to Stiles, “You, stay here.” He led Stiles into the Study, he was just about to point out that Derek would be able to hear them anyway when his dad turned on the old record player and cranked the volume. He couldn’t help the proud smile he sent his dad’s way, he was the sheriff for a reason.

“Explain.”

“I thought I already did? I mean we don’t really know anything else yet.”

“Well he seems to remember you just fine.” He said with a raised eyebrow.

“He, um, remembers my smell? Apparently he finds it comforting.” He replied, a little embarrassed scratching at the back of his neck.

“Stiles,” his dad groaned, running a hand over his tired face, “Do you need another talk? Should I be reminding you that you are underage and Derek Hale is decidedly not.”

“What!” Stiles squawked, rapidly turning very red, this is not a conversation he wanted to have, “No! We’re not, I’m not- he doesn’t-” he babbled, his dad cut him off with a worn-out raised hand. Stiles took a breath and managed a whole sentence; “He just finds me familiar is all.”

“He certainly looked a bit more than familiar” His dad grumbled, Stiles opened his mouth to protest again but his dad stopped him with a resigned, “just, be safe.” That sent Stiles even redder as his dad switched off the music and went up to bed.

Stiles returned to the kitchen, breakfast and Derek. Going off what Scott managed to pack away when he came round these days, Stiles served up and ridiculous amount of toast and bacon for Derek and a large bowl of Lucky Charms for himself; he could tell he was going to need their sugary goodness to get through this day.

“So,” Stiles started around a mouthful, “Plan for the day. We need to see Deaton for sure, and I think it would be a good idea to get you around the pack as well, might jog your memory?”

“Who’s Deaton?”

“Oh right, yeah. He’s a vet.” Stiles said with a grin.

“Why do you need to take me to a vet?” Derek said in a very undignified tone, Stiles thought his confused face was especially cute, he noses was all scrunched up and Stiles could just about see his adorable bunny teeth – seriously those were ridiculous on a werewolf.

“Well yeah Derek, that’s where you take poorly puppies.” He answered with a smirk, Derek growled playfully and Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that ripped out of him, much to Derek’s disgruntlement, so he then reached across the table and swatted Stiles over the head, which only served to make him laugh harder.

“You’re ridiculous.” Derek said with a smile before he went back to shovelling in bacon and toast.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyway, Deaton is a vet, but he is also an emissary, knows all kinds of supernatural voodoo. So even if he can be infuriating cryptic and vague, he seems to know his shit. So hopefully he will know what happened to your memories.”

“Oh, okay, good.” Derek replied with a smile.

“So pack or Deaton first? I’m thinking Deaton. I suppose we could get the pack to meet us at Deaton’s? Or at least Scott – he’s the alpha – but maybe we shouldn’t bombard you with too much at once. Or maybe pack first? I mean, perhaps the faster we get you around everyone the more likely you are to remember stuff. Man, I haven’t even called them yet.” Stiles carried on rambling away until Derek interrupted him.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for looking after me.” He looked so sincere it broke Stiles’ heart a little.

“Hey, no problem Sourwolf. So, I think Deaton first, then pack. Do you want Scott to meet us there? I mean, you’re not especially close, although you’re way better than you used to be, but he’s the alpha.”

“I think I’d rather it was just you for now. We can see the pack after?” Derek asked tentatively. Stiles thought he’d find all the pack comforting, but he supposed he was worried it might be a little overwhelming, so they could just stick together for now.

“Yeah sure, I’ll give them a call when we’re done with Deaton.” He smiled and dumped their plates and bowls into the sink, heading upstairs with Derek close behind once again and taking out his phone to call the vet.

“Hello, Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.”

“Deaton? It’s Stiles, we have a problem.”

“When do you not.” Deaton’s tone was mildly amused and cool as a cucumber as per.

“Yeah well. At least there’s slightly less peril than our standard problems.”

“What’s the problem Stiles?” Deaton asked sounding slightly distracted.

“Well, long story short, I have Derek minus his memories hanging out in my room.” Deaton made an interesting noise, clearly paying attention now, “Everything specific to his life is just gone. So we were wondering if you knew anything that could have caused this, or will fix this.”

“I do know of a few possibilities. Why don’t you and Derek come down to the clinic and I may be able to narrow it down.”

“Thanks man. We’ll be there in a bit.” Stiles hung up the phone and turned to Derek, “I assume your wolfy hearing picked everything up?” Derek nodded from his perch on Stiles’ bed, “Good, so you should change then we can get going.” He continued, realising Derek was still in his sweats.

However, he clearly hadn’t thought that statement through when Derek started peeling his sweats off then and there revealing a pair of black boxer briefs and muscled thighs. Stiles did not let out an unmanly meep at the sight. Nope, not at all, nothing of the sort. He tore his gaze away before he could be caught gawking and made a hasty exit mumbling something about brushing his teeth.

He was splashing some cold water into his face, telling himself to get a grip when Derek called him from the bedroom.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you shirts are going to fit me, do you have anything bigger?” Stiles wandered back into his bedroom and promptly burst into laughter. Of all the shirts, the one Derek picked out was the blue and orange stripy one. Derek huffed as Stiles caught his breath.

“Sorry man. You’ve worn that monstrosity before and your ridiculous chest tried to burst out of it then as well.” Stiles explained with a grin.

“I have?” He replied, with an expression Stiles couldn’t quite place, but if felt almost hopeful.

“Wait, one sec, I think I have...” Stiles said, rummaging around in his draws, “A-ha!” he announced triumphantly, lobbing a henley at Derek, “That, is actually yours.”

“You have my shirt?” Derek enquired, that expression Stiles couldn’t quite place back on his face.

“Yeah. You turn up and bleed on my floor sometimes, I washed the blood out of that one but never got round to giving it back to you. Knew it would come in handy. Though to be fair I expected it to be the next time you got blood over your shirt, not after an unexpected memory loss sleepover.”

“Oh, I thought maybe–. Never mind.” Derek said, shaking his head slightly in confusion, he looked if anything mildly dejected. But then, Stiles though, if he’s lost his memory he’d be twice as confused and distressed, so it wasn’t that surprising.

“Don’t worry big guy, we’ll get you sorted.” Stiles promised, with a smile.

He left the room as Derek was changing into his shirt to grab his keys and slip on his sneakers. When Derek joined him downstairs he was gripping his trademark leather jacket awkwardly and looking at Stiles like he was trying to say something. Stiles was just about to ask him what it was, when Derek found words.

“Could you-“Derek paused, unsure of himself like he had been that morning and the night before when he’d wanted to breathe Stiles in. Stiles gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, really he was finding this gentle, hesitant side of Derek freakin’ adorable. “It’s just. Outside, there will be all these smells that I don’t recognise which will put me on edge, then things that I know that I should remember that will only agitate me even more. So I was wondering if you would put this on.” Stiles took the offered jacket but quirked an eyebrow in question.

“Sure thing dude, but um, how will this help with that?” It was curiosity that had Stiles ask (as usual) because frankly it didn’t particularly matter to him why Derek wanted him to wear the jacket, because whatever the reason, he’d do it if Derek wanted. He was pretty sure he’d do whatever Derek wanted really. Derek looked a little sheepish as he continued.

“You and your smell is comforting to me. And that jacket is the thing I have which smells most like myself. So if you wear it the combined scent should be completely grounding for me. Should stop me getting to wound up.”

That made sense, Stiles figured, and the moment he slipped on the jacket Derek seemed to relax.

 

* * *

 

When they walked into the clinic, Deaton looked up from the dusty old book he was flicking through, he seemed to lift an eyebrow at Stiles in the jacket, but made no comment.

“Sup doc, so, think you can help us?” Stiles asked, hoisting himself up onto the metal table and crossing his legs. Derek leant next to him and Stiles felt his arm brush against his own.

“Well there’s a few things that can cause this kind of memory loss. The most likely of which is either a specific type of wolfsbane, a witch or a faerie.”

“Great, how do we know if it was any of them?”

“Well, it’s unlikely to be a witch as they rarely attack unprovoked and the pack would have almost certainly picked up on their presence in the territory by now. A faerie always leaves a kind of residue, like purple goo, normally somewhere on the targets clothes or exposed skin?” Deaton looked up expectantly and Stiles turned to Derek.

“I didn’t notice any; did you wipe off any purple gunk before you found your way to mine?” Derek shook his head but the vet didn’t seem disheartened.

“That’s probably a good thing. Faerie spells are notoriously difficult to reverse or remove. We can tell if it is wolfsbane through a simple blood test, which I can do now.” He explained, reaching for a needle, beside him Stiles noticed Derek tense up fractionally.

“Hey Derek it’s all good. I promise Deaton is one of the good guys.” He said nudging him with his shoulder.

“No it’s not that.” Deaton was waiting patiently with his needle.

“Oh, what is it then?” Derek mumbled something under his breath, “Sorry man, didn’t catch that?”  

“I appear to be afraid of needles.” He muttered with a frustrated scowl.

“You can’t possibly be afraid of needles, you once asked me to cut off your arm. Your whole arm Derek!”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You’d been poisoned and didn’t think Scott was going to get the cure fast enough. So you were demanding I saw off your arm.” Derek listened to this story intently, expression going through various stages of intrigue and alarm.

“Oh. That’s mildly disturbing.”

“Considering the situation you were actually pretty calm about it. I mean, you didn’t want to lose your arm but I don’t feel you were freaking out enough.”

“Who is calm about getting their arm cut off?” He asked incredulously.

“Apparently big bad werewolves are.” Stiles replied with a grin. Deaton chose this moment to loudly and unsubtly clear his throat.

“Oh, sorry, the blood test, go ahead.” Derek said steeling himself, but Deaton just waved the already full needle in front of him as Stiles smirked at him.

“Well I think I successfully distracted you from the perils of a needle.” Stiles announced victoriously, hopping down from the table and following Deaton into the next room. Derek followed close behind with a soft smile, Stiles felt him reaching out to brush his fingers against Stiles wrist.

“So, how long will it be until you know about the wolfsbane?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Oh, okay.” He jumped up onto the counter next to Deaton to watch him work. Thing is, Stiles has never been good at waiting or sitting still, it’s like all of his energy just bubbles up and has to be expended somehow; so without even thinking about it he ends up swinging his legs and clicking his tongue and drumming his fingers.

“Stiles.” Deaton said, mildly annoyed.

“Yo.” He replied, focusing his attention back on the vet. “Do you have the results?” Deaton sighed and turned back to his work. “What?”

“Stiles, I think you’re annoying Deaton. Can’t you sit still?”

“Nope, never really been my forte.” Derek smiled and shook his head, he looked fond.

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer. Why don’t you go out in the waiting room?” Deaton suggested, although, it sounded less like a suggestion and more like a request.

So with a huff Stiles wandered into the other room with Derek and promptly sprawled himself out over all the available chairs.

“Stiles?”

“Hmmm?” He replied looking up at Derek.

“You’re taking up all the seats.”

“Yep.”

“Move.” Now that sounded more like the old Derek.

“Nope.” He grinned stretching out like a cat. “Whatcha going to do about it big bad?” He teased, he expected Derek to dump him onto the floor, instead he just lifted up Stiles’ feet and sat down, placing them back on his lap.

“Hu. I thought you’d just push me onto the floor.” Stiles barely had time to register the mischievous glint in Derek’s eyes before he was unceremoniously shoved onto the floor in a ball of flailing limbs; going by the laughter above him Derek thought this was absolutely hilarious. Stiles glared up at him from the floor which only served to make Derek laugh harder.

“Not cool man. Not. Cool.”

“Oh Stiles I’m sorry.” He clearly wasn’t sorry at all, the laughing bastard, so Stiles stuck his tongue out and remained on the floor. “Do you want your seat back?” He was _still_ laughing. Stiles thought he should laugh all the time, he wondered if this was what Derek was like before the fire, before Kate; quick, free and generous with his smiles and laughter. Before he felt the need to build a wall and hide behind it.

“Nope. I’m fine on the floor.” Stiles replied, not wanting their playful teasing to end, not wanting Derek to stop smiling. He felt like he could make Derek forget everything bad just by making him laugh, which was stupid because Derek had literally forgotten everything anyway. It just felt so safe and close, like it was just the two of them, and that was all that mattered.

“It can’t be comfortable.”

“It is, you should totally try it sometime. Way better than those boring chairs and much harder to get pushed off of too.” Derek made an amused noise before getting off his seat and lying next to Stiles on the floor. “See, it’s awesome.”

“It’s weird.”

“Yup.”

“I feel like normal people don’t lie on the floor of animal clinics.”

“Yeah, well, normal people don’t sprout and retract fur from their faces either, or have friends that do. So I wouldn’t worry about falling into the normal category if I were you.” He said, grinning at Derek, “Oh! I’ve always wanted to ask you, where do your eyebrows go when you wolf out man!”

“What?”

“I mean, Scott’s are still there, but your eyebrows – which are pretty impressive anyway – just disappear! Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just as Stiles was about to suggest that Derek wolf out now so that he can see for himself, Deaton appeared in the doorway and proceeded to look at Stiles like he was a weird little puzzle he was never going to be able to solve. Stiles thought he had probably figured that lying on the floor had been his idea.

“So, was it the wolfsbane?” He asked, as Derek reached down and hoisted him to his feet.

“There was no trace of it, or anything unusual, in Derek’s blood.”

“Oh. So what? Do we see if there’s a renegade witch on the loose after all?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check, but I feel there is another culprit.”

“Yeah? I thought you said that those were the three possibilities?”

“Well I didn’t mention it earlier because they are rather rare and not out to harm at all. I think, that Derek’s memories were taken by a genie.”

“A genie? They’re real? Seriously!” Stiles realised he really shouldn’t be surprised by these things anymore, but still, _genies!_

“Real yes, but few in number. I didn’t really consider it fully earlier because of the circumstances required. Derek would have needed to wish away his memories which I don’t believe he ever would have done. Not knowingly. However, it is possible that you made an offhand comment wishing that you could forget and the genie was just passing by and overheard.”

“But why would they take an offhand comment seriously like that?” Derek asked clearly slightly troubled at the prospect of being the cause of his own memory loss, “Surely I would have needed to seek the genie out.”

“Not at all. The moment a genie hears the phrase ‘I wish’ they are obligated to grant it. It is why it is important that their population remains so low, or it would be chaos. But Beacon Hills is drawing in the supernatural again, so it wouldn’t be too surprising if a genie had wandered into town.”

“Okay, this is sounding most likely, but we’ll still do a sweep for a witch, just in case. How do we undo a genie’s work though? Should we find the genie? Would being around the pack help at all?”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt, at the very least it should give Derek some more stability before he gets his memories back. There isn’t much point in trying to find them, except as a last resort, they will register as nothing but an average person, even to a werewolf. But I will have to research a cure, I have some contacts in the Middle East who have more experience with genies. It will probably take a week or so.”

That wasn’t a very long time in the grand scheme of things, but Stiles knew that with Derek staying so close to him and being so tactile, it was going to be torture. Oh well, he’d survive, it’s not like they hadn’t been through worse. It’s not even like they hadn’t been through _literal_ torture.

“Good. We have a plan.” Stiles said, “Next step, inform and meet the pack.” He always felt better when they had a plan, when it felt like they were moving forward with purpose rather than just running around without a clue (which to be honest was most of the time). He led the way back out to his jeep, hitting Scott’s number as he went.

“Hey Scotty.”

“Stiles? What’s up?”

“I need you to call an emergency pack meeting, like, right now.”

“Is this about Derek still? He still hasn’t been missing very long Stiles, and he can handle himself better than anyone else in the pack, you don’t need to worry.”

“Derek turned up last night,”

“Oh, so he isn’t missing, that good.” Scott replied, his gladness completely earnest as usual.

“But he is missing his memories.”

“Oh. _Shit_.”

“Yep. So, emergency pack meeting? We can fill you all in and hopefully jog his memories or at least bring him some familiarity and pack comfort.”

“Yeah, yeah definitely. I’ll get everyone at the loft in an hour, meet you there.”

“Awesome, see ya man.” Stiles hung up and turned to Derek.

“How long was I missing for?”

“Not even twenty four hours really.”

“But you noticed?” He asked, standing closer to Stiles than he had been.

“Yeah. We were having a pack meeting, which you _never_ miss, so I noticed.”

“Thank you.” Seriously Stiles had heard him say that more in the past twelve hours that he ever expected to hear in from Derek in his life, and his face was just so open and honest, Stiles couldn’t help but melt a little more inside.

“What for?”

“Everything. But, also, it’s nice to know that someone would notice if I was gone.” Derek brushed his fingers over the nape of Stiles neck before seeming to force himself to pull away and climb into the jeep. Such a small gesture, but it still made Stiles weak at the knees, (which if he was honest with himself, was a little pathetic really). He quickly gathered himself and jumped up into the jeep too, banging his head on the doorframe as he went – much to Derek’s amusement.

 

* * *

 

An hour later they were heading over to the loft to meet the rest of the pack.

“So is this where the alpha – Scott? – lives?”

“No, it’s actually were you live. We’ve just kind of always had them there.”

“Oh, why?”

“Not sure really, but I guess part of it is that for a while you were wanted for murder so you couldn’t really be strolling around teenagers houses – not that that ever stopped you, you massive creeper-wolf. And of course you were the alpha for a little while there to, although for most of that time you were living in an abandoned station which, no offense, but most of us didn’t particularly want to spend time in. But I don’t know, we just always kind of wound up at your loft once you got it.” Stiles rambled before turning and seeing the alarmed look on Derek’s face. “What?”

“I was wanted for murder?”

“Um, yeah? But that was my fault, wrongly accused you, my bad – but you do give off some serious serial killer vibes! Well, not right now you don’t, but real Derek does, not that you’re not real, I mean you with your memories.” Derek looked, if anything, more concerned.

“I was the alpha? Don’t you have to die to lose that power? How did Scott get the power?”

“Don’t worry big guy, Scott's a true alpha, developed it all on his own. You gave it up to save your sister, Cora.” He replied, smiling warmly.

“Oh, I have a sister? Will she be at the loft?” Stiles cringed internally, not really wanting to tell Derek too much about his family, a silly part of him felt like he could protect Derek from it, even if just from a little while.

“Nah, you took her to New York so that she could be safer with a bigger, strong, more established pack.”

“I should’ve sent you too, you wouldn’t have been possessed.” Derek grumbled, Stiles just snorted.

“I never would’ve gone. My dad and the pack are all I have, not going to leave you all behind. Besides, I never do what you tell me. In fact, I normally do the opposite and infuriate you endlessly.”

“Why does that not surprise me.” Derek teased.

They pulled up at the loft and as Derek climbed out of the car and sniffed the air; however, instead of relaxing, he frowned.

“Not familiar?”

“No it’s not that. It smells like pack and myself. But it also smells wrong, like death.” He seemed to be recoiling slightly from the place, Stiles was only confused for a moment before he worked it out.

“Oh. That must be Peter, he lurks around here a lot. He’s your uncle who came back from the dead. Although I firmly believe we should return him to the land of the dead, because I am convinced that he is still pure evil. Well, maybe not _pure_ evil, but he does gives me the creeps.” Derek looked if anything, more confused than ever, “You know what, we’ll cover that story later it’s a long one. For now at least, Peter is on our side.”

Derek nodded and Stiles started heading in, but Derek stepped ahead of him and kept Stiles behind him, obviously the wrong/dead vibes were really setting him on edge. However, as they got closer Derek relaxed, Stiles figured that he could hear and smell the rest of the pack now, drowning out Peter.

“Want me to go in first?” Stiles asked when Derek paused at the loft’s big sliding door, he nodded so Stiles pushed the door aside and led the way in.

Everyone was there, Scott had obviously pulled the ‘I am the alpha’ card out for this one, because the thing is, Derek is an integral part of the pack, and they just didn’t normally worry as he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Most of the time. Some of the time. Actually, come to think of it, Stiles has had to save his delectable ass quite a lot, maybe they should be more worried.

The pack was spread out around the loft. Lydia was trying to help Malia grasp the basics of algebra (with little success if the frustrated expressions were anything to go by), Isaac was watching something on the TV, Scott and Kira were pulling pizzas out the oven and waving them over, Peter was lurking on the spiral staircase, even Chris was there. There were only a couple of pointed raised eyebrows aimed at the leather jacket.

Lydia and Malia mumbled a greeting up from where they were working, as they wandered past to Scott and Kira in the Kitchen; “With you in a minute, Malia has almost got it.”

“Hey Derek, hey Stiles,” Kira greeted, for the next few minutes Stiles filled Scott in on the whole situation thus far, the only one who wouldn’t be able to hear was Lydia but Malia was probably relaying it.

“Well, we’ve got an extensive collection of pizzas, so dig in.” Kira told them once he’d finished explaining.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Stiles responded snatching up a slice and jamming the entire thing into his mouth, “So, I think we should just hang out and let Derek be with pack, give him some familiarity.” He managed around his mouthful of pizza, trying out keep it all in his mouth; Derek was giving him a rather amused but disgusted look. “What?”

“You’re revolting.”

“Who me?” Stiles replied, grinning around the food stuffed into his mouth, Derek just laughed softly and shook his head at the floor. When Stiles looked around again, Lydia and Kira were sending them curious glances, Peter just looked smug.

They took all the pizzas over to the living room and dumped them onto the coffee table. Chris and Lydia joined Isaac on the couch, Kira and Scott piled into the arm chair, Derek and Stiles plonked themselves down onto the floor with Malia, and Peter stood behind the couch, lurking, like a massive creeper, as per. Stiles thought Derek looked relaxed, if a tiny bit awkward.

“So, names would probably be useful.” He prompted once everyone was settled.

“Oh yeah! Of course, sorry man. I’m Scott.” He answered happily with his big puppy dog smile.

“I’m Kira.” She told him sweetly, really her and Scott were kinda perfect for each other.

“You’re not a werewolf? But you’re not human either?” Derek asked, Stiles supposed that was more polite than saying ‘what are you?’

“I’m a Thunder Kitsune.” She smiled.

“The tricksters? Foxes and wolves don’t traditionally get along.”

“Well, there’s always an exception.” Scott beamed at Kira making her blush.

“I’m Isaac, beta werewolf. You turned me actually.” Isaac smiled reassuringly.

“Chris Argent, hunter but we have a truce, especially since you’ve saved my life a couple of times.” Chris said nodding at Derek.

“Well, I’m Lydia, a banshee which basically means I can predict death which isn’t as helpful as you’d think. Of course, the fact that I am a certified genius is quite helpful.” Lydia informed Derek, looking up briefly from filing her nails. Derek looked to Peter next.

“You’re Peter, my uncle.”

“Has Stiles been telling stories about me? I didn’t know you found me so interesting.” He leered at Stiles and Stiles noticed Derek shift fractionally closer, hackles raised marginally (hackles, ha! Subconscious dog jokes).

Malia was completely oblivious with a pen in her mouth, scowling at the next algebra problem which Lydia had decided she was ready to face on her own (Malia didn’t seem to agree). Lydia nudged her with the tip of her foot to get her attention, Malia looked up and spat the pen out when she realised everyone was looking at her expectantly.

“Hu? Oh! Right, I’m Malia, were-coyote. Well, feral were-coyote until a little while ago. When with me it’s probably best to remember that I’ve spent longer as a wild coyote than a girl.” She ripped into a slice of pizza as if to prove her point, and grinned wolfishly (or wild coyoteishly?) up at Derek.

“So, that’s everyone. Now, I vote Mario Kart.”

“Stiles, you always vote Mario Kart.”

“Yeah and you always lose.” Remarked Isaac, but he was setting it up, so he clearly wanted to play too.

“Today’s my day, I can feel it.” Stiles predicted, rubbing his hands together dramatically.

“Yeah, it’s not.” Lydia said, shaking her head contemptuously.

“Hey! You predict death not Mario Kart, so what do you know anyway.” He retorted.

“I know that you need at least some skill at a game if you plan on winning.” She countered, picking up a controller and handing it to Malia.

“Whatever, I still think I’m going to crush you all. Chris, Peter, you want in?”

“I think watching you will be entertainment enough.” Peter sneered, there was something so, _greasy_ , about him, it put Stiles’ teeth on edge.

“I’ll team up with Isaac,” Chris answered, Stiles still couldn’t believe the hardened hunter had a massive soft spot for Mario Kart, or maybe it was just for the pack. He was pretty sure Chris stuck around to make sure they were all keeping relatively safe, in a sort of homage to Allison; and somewhere along the road, he’s just become another part of the pack.

He’d also taken in Isaac, which was brilliant because Melissa would never have kicked him out, but in reality she couldn’t afford to feed two boys on a regular basis.

“Awesome, so teams are Isaac and Chris, Lydia and Malia, Scott and Kira and me and Derek.” As they were all selecting their characters (Princess Peach for the win!) Derek spoke.

“Stiles?”

“Ya?”

“I don’t remember how to play.”

“Don’t worry big guy, you’ll pick it up. And I’m not actually sure if you know how to play anyway. You’ve never joined in, you just brood from the corner and occasionally laugh at how crap I am.”

“Oh. Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure I want to be on your team if you’re crap.” He joked, Stiles slapped his knee and did his best to look offended.

“Hey! I’ve already said that it’s my night, I can feel it!” Everyone gave him a disbelieving looks, especially when Stiles crashed straight into a wall on the first corner.

Five hours and a disgusting number of pizzas later, they were still playing. Derek had mastered the game after one lap and was destroying everyone, which was why he was now sat behind Stiles with his arms encircling him, helping him to steer on his go’s, (‘I’m not losing because you’re shit’.) Stiles thinks everyone had been too shocked by Derek wrapping his arms around him to protest – not that it was stopping the gleeful looks Lydia was sending him, she clearly didn’t need super senses to have picked up on Stiles’ crush.

“Lydia, why did you insist on Rainbow Road?!”

“Because it’s the only one we haven’t done yet, and we’ve done the others loads. Besides, it’s a pretty close competition and it’s the ultimate challenge, so winner takes all.” She answered all business, Stiles figured that she fancied her and Malia’s chances.

Stiles had fallen off no less than six times before Derek decided to just hold on to Stiles’ hands permanently, pulling him back slightly to the point where he was basically in Derek’s lap..

“Turn gently. Good. Now on the next corner slow down first.” Derek breathed the instructions into Stiles ear while guiding his hands and the steering wheel as he spoke. “Now, accelerate here.” Derek’s hot breath in his ear and on the nape of his neck was making him shiver and Stiles was certain that every werewolf/coyote in the room could hear his heartbeat jack-rabbiting away, not to mention the way his arousal was steadily rising.

Despite all this, they were still catching up with everyone fast as they were now falling off the least and by the final lap they were well and truly in the lead, even with Derek’s beard scratching teasingly against Stiles’ throat making him almost drop the wheel and blush furiously.

Stiles punched the air dramatically as they zipped across the finish line, firmly in first place.

“See! I told you I was going to win today! HA!” There was some serious grumbling from the group but no one seemed willing to address the borderline cheating that was going on between Derek and Stiles, probably because of the sheer weirdness of it. It was almost like everyone was trying to protect this soft, happy Derek and let him be that way, even if only for a little while.

After Stiles and Derek’s victory the day started to wind down. Scott was taking Kira out for a proper date at a nice restaurant, Chris needed to leave to get some work done (because apparently he actually has a legit job, who knew?!) and he was Isaac’s ride.

As far as Stiles could tell, Malia was currently crashing at Lydia’s while she tried to coach her up to standard in most subjects, and her mother was putting dinner on the table in half an hour, so if she wanted to eat they needed to get moving (Lydia’s words not his).

Peter had creeped off somewhere (thank god) presumably to his apartment downtown (which he should just never leave).

“So, did that help? Lots of familiarity, like being in a room full of me.” He said with a big grin.

“Not really. I mean, they were familiar and a comfort just like pack should be. But not in the way you are either.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it. You’re, just…more.”

“Oh.” Stiles tried not to blush, but he was pretty sure it was futile, especially after the lust that must have been pouring off of him earlier. “So um, your bedroom is up there,” Stiles directed, “Can stay till about eleven but then should get home for my dad’s ‘are you home’ pho–”

“Stiles?” He interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I stayed with you? It’s just although the smell of the pack is here it mainly reeks of Peter and death, even overriding my own scent, and it’s huge which makes it hard to feel safe as I don’t know it well at the moment and I just feel safest with you, and I have this overwhelming urge to keep you safe so I will be calmer with you there, also–”

“Derek?” It was Stiles turn to interrupt this time, he’d never thought he’d hear Derek babble nervously. He added it to the ever growing list of thing that Derek did which he found adorable.

“Yeah?”

“Of course you can stay with me until this whole mess is fixed, I was going to say that you should pack a bag so we can be back for my dad’s call. I certainly wouldn’t want to be left alone without my memories, I had assumed you wouldn’t want to either.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Derek looked embarrassed, it felt so odd to see him like this.

“So, do you want to hang here until elevenish, or head back now?”

“Now,” Derek answered immediately.

“Smell of the undead uncle getting to you?” Stiles laughed as he headed up the spiral staircase to help Derek pack. He just barely heard Derek grumble “That’s not the only thing about him that bothered me.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and couldn’t move, the only thing he could hear was the maniac cruel laughter of the Nogitsune. It’s asking him riddles, he doesn’t know the answers. It’s starts shouting, screaming at him, but he doesn’t know the answer. He can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t–

“Stiles! Stiles! Wake up! Please wake up!” Derek was shaking him, like, _really_ shaking him. But he still couldn’t breathe, he was having a panic attack, it felt like there was an anvil pressing down on his chest, he couldn’t catch his breath. He was gasping but couldn’t seem to draw any air into his lungs.

“Stiles! I need you to breathe with me, please, just breathe with me.” Stiles tried to calm down, to breath with Derek but he couldn’t get the timing right, couldn’t do it slow enough, he was just panicking again unable to get the air in. He can’t breathe. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. Derek’s talking to him but he can’t hear him. He feels like he can still hear the Nogitsune screaming at him, the only thing reaching his ears is the thumping of his own heartbeat.

Derek’s mouth is moving, what is he saying? He’s shaking him harder now. Still can’t breathe. Going to pass out soon. Can’t breathe. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t–

Derek’s moving, he’s sitting himself behind Stiles, bundling him up to his chest, holding him tight, so tight. Stiles can feel the rise and fall of Derek’s chest, his breath on his neck. Derek squeezes him tighter, tighter. Keeps breathing, steady and solid behind him. Stiles feels himself start to calm down, catches his first breath. The oxygen is thick and glorious, like honey sliding down his throat and filling his lungs.

They stay like that for a while; Derek holding Stiles, squeezing him tight, reminding him how to breathe. It made him feel completely safe, warm.

Stiles’ heart rate steadily returned to normal, but he was exhausted, drifting straight back to sleep. Derek started to slip back out of the bed as Stiles was quickly losing consciousness. As Derek got back into his own bed Stiles dropped his hand down off the side of his bed and found Derek’s.

He didn’t let go.  

 

* * *

 

When he woke up their fingers were still loosely linked, reminding Stiles of his nightmare and panic attack the previous evening. It wasn’t normally that bad, most nights he broke out into a cold sweat and screamed himself awake, but occasionally it was worse, like last night. Those nights were normally the worst, usually he couldn’t get back to sleep and was still jittery the next day.

But last night he had had Derek. And today he felt calm and clear.

His plan for the day involved dragging Derek around Beacon Hills trying to jog his memory, while simultaneously trying to avoid the full tragedy. Stiles figured that if he was going to remember great; but if he couldn’t jog Derek’s memory, then why bother making him sad?

Stiles’ clock was blinking at him, telling him that it was already half ten and therefore time to get moving. He squeezed Derek’s hand and shook it gently. Derek made disgruntled noises and burrowed further into the covers.

“Come on Sourwolf, time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna. Comfy.” He murmured into the pillow.

“To bad, come on.” Stiles stood and used their joined hands to try (and fail) to pull him up. He had been hoping that in Derek’s sleepy state he may be able to manage it (he was wrong).

Derek made a petulant whine when Stiles tried to haul him up again and decided to yank Stiles down instead which he was powerless to stop – damn werewolf strength.

“Dereeeekkk! Let me go! We need to get up.” Stiles protested as Derek held him in a vice grip so he couldn’t move.

“Shhhhh. I’m sleeping.” Stiles squirmed around so that they were face to face and wiggled a hand half free so he could start poking Derek, which led to the fascinating discovery that Derek is _very_ ticklish. He managed to incapacitate him through sheer tickle-pain-breathlessness (who knew that would be the best way to overpower a werewolf?)

Stiles had him pinned but then Derek managed to grab his hands and stop the assault. At that very moment Stiles door swung open to his dad mumbling sleepily.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Stiles and Derek froze like guilty teenagers and looked at the sheriff, who had a distinctly unamused expression.

“This actually isn’t what it looks like. We were having a tickle war I swear.” He managed to squeak out, jumping off Derek. His dad just sighed.

“Just be quiet, I only got off shift about four hours ago.” Stiles nodded profusely, while Derek apologised sincerely. The sheriff looked between them again with a bemused expression before tiredly shaking his head and retreating.  

“Well, that looked bad.” Stiles commented, face red with embarrassment, Derek just let out a small laugh. “Anyway, at least you’re up now. Mission accomplished. Time for breakfast, come on.”

Derek wolfed down a monster pile of toast while Stiles stuffed his lucky charms.

“I wanted to say thank you. For last night, I mean. It doesn’t normally get that bad, but I probably would’ve passed out if it weren’t for you. I certainly wouldn’t have gotten back to sleep. So, yeah, thanks.” Stiles said awkwardly looking down at his empty bowl rather than at Derek. He reached cross the table and squeezed Stiles hand reassuringly, making him look up.

“I’ll always be there for you. If you’ll let me. Even when I get my memories back, I can still be there.” Stiles gulped and nodded, wishing he could believe it were true. The real Derek cared, he cared about the pack and Stiles was in the pack. But to the normal Derek, Stiles wasn't important enough for him to sleep nearby and help him through nightmares. That should be Scott’s job. He wished he could believe it should be Derek’s.

“Right, so, plan for the day: drag you around town trying to jog your memory.” Stiles said, clearing his throat, he’d never been good with poignant silences.

“Okay.” Derek replied, polishing off his breakfast.

Half an hour later they had made some lunch and were piling into the jeep, which was making some rather unhealthy noises and refusing to start.

“Come on baby, I know I told you I’d take you to the garage yesterday I didn’t mean to lie. Please forgive me baby.” Stiles cooed away to his car until it spluttered into life, “Yes!” He celebrated, slapping the steering wheel and grinning at Derek who was looking at him like he was an alien.

“You’re insane.” He deadpanned.

“Hey!”

“And this jeep is a pile of junk.” Stiles gasped in horror.

“Aww baby don’t listen to the nasty werewolf.” He whispered, stroking the dashboard. “And you should be more grateful. You nearly bled out on that seat while I drove your wolfy ass to Deaton’s! Do you know how hard it was to get that out of the seat!”

“Normal people don’t whisper sweet nothings to their cars.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you know anyway, you’ve lost your mind. Besides I bet you’re even worse with your ridiculous car. Ooo! We should totally find your car, you’re obsessed with that thing!” He exclaimed pulling away and heading towards the loft where he figured the Camaro would be.

“I have a car?”

“You have a ridiculous car, yes.”

“Why is it ridiculous?”

Well, Stiles thought, because the sight of Derek all smirking and sunglasses and perfect stubble in said car is one the sexiest images possible and makes him have to avoid popping inappropriate boners. Seriously, Derek and his car are the most attractive couple he knows.

What Stiles actually said was, “Because it’s an ostentatious sports car. You don’t exactly fly under the radar when you’re in it and most of the time you’re doing super-secret semi-illegal supernatural shiz.”

“Nice alliteration.” Derek smirked, “And if that’s the case then maybe we can stop driving around in this scrap heap.” He joked, Stiles swotted him upside the head.

“You better start being nice to this jeep or she’ll refuse to start when you’re in it.” Derek just laughed, Stiles tried to hold back his own smile.

When they reached the loft Stiles whizzed upstairs to find the keys to the Camaro and led the way round the back to the small parking lot.

“Ah-Ha! There it is.” Stiles announced making a beeline for the car. He unlocked it and climbed behind the wheel, he’d always wanted to drive this beauty, maybe Derek sans memory wouldn’t remember that he only lets other people drive in desperate circumstances…

“Stiles. Get out of my car.”

“But Derek! Pleeease!” Stiles pouted, dramatically hugging the wheel.

“Out.”

“Or what?” He challenged cheekily.

“Or I will remove you from the car and onto the pavement.” The only way it could’ve sounded more like normal Derek was if he threatened to do so with his teeth, it made Stiles grin, wondering if like normal Derek, he wasn’t afraid of manhandling.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Nope, not buying it.” He dared, cocking an eyebrow at Derek.

Stiles barely had the time to let out a (completely manly and dignified) shriek before he was lying on the pavement looking up at a smug Derek in the driver’s seat. Stiles propped himself up on his forearms and scowled at Derek.

“Get the in passenger seat or I’ll leave you there.”

“Do you even remember how to drive? I’m not sure this is safe, I mean, dude, you were reckless at the best of times!”

“We’ll be fine. And don’t call me dude.”

“Can’t even count how many times I’ve saved your furry ass and you won’t even let me drive the car.” Stiles grumbled.

“Nah, sorry, don’t remember any of that.” Derek snarked with a wink, tearing away from the parking lot.

Stiles directed Derek to the abandoned train station and got out the car and went in.

“And that particular derelict train car is where I think you were sleeping at the time.”

“Why would anyone live here?!” Derek asked incredulously, turning his nose up.

“You had your reasons,” Stiles reassured, Derek lifted a brow as if to ask ‘what could possibly justify this place’ so he continued, “You were hiding. You were trying to keep your newly turned betas safe and train them up.”

“I can smell two other wolves. Faint but there. No one I’ve met, but familiar all the same.” Shit, that would be Erica and Boyd, it was amazing Derek could still pick them up.

“Yeah. Two of your betas, Erica and Boyd. They’re not around anymore.”

“You mean they’re dead?” Stiles nodded, I clearly didn’t do a very good job at looking after them then.” Stiles hated hearing that old self-loathing back in his voice.

“It wasn’t your fault. There was a pack of alphas and Erica and Boyd had run off. They didn’t stand a chance.” Stiles sighed, resigned, looking away for a moment.

“You were close? You smell sad.” Derek said crowding up near Stiles.

“Not particularly. But Erica, she was my Catwoman.” Stiles smiled sadly, he really did miss her.

“Come on, let’s not stay here.” Derek said, taking Stiles’ hand and leading him back towards the car. He didn’t let go until they had to get in.

The next place Stiles directed Derek to was the school.

“Your school?” Derek asked as Stiles not so legally opened one of the back doors. Seriously, what had his life come to? He officially breaks _into_ school more than he breaks out. What kind of self-respecting teenager does that!

“Your school too, once upon a time. Besides, a lot of shit has gone down here lately. All very dramatic.” Derek raised an eyebrow in question so Stiles regaled him their past adventures, pointing out where they happened as they passed them.

“This school pool, is where you were paralyzed from the neck down so I had to hold you up for two hours while the Kanima stalked us. Do you have any idea how heavy you are! Muscle sinks dude, and you are made out of the stuff! No super strength over here either, just pure awesomeness.”

“That is quite impressive. Thank you.” Derek conceded.

“You know. I actually have this theory that you don’t know how to swim. ‘Cause I’m not gunna lie, tad suspicious that the venom wore off as soon as we got out.” Stiles teased.

“Well, let’s find out shall we.”

“Wha–” Stiles hadn’t even comprehended what was about to happen before Derek picked him up bridal style and tossed him in the pool, laughing his ass off as he did so.

“You asshole!” He spluttered, Derek continued to laugh. He loved how free this Derek was with his smiles and laughs, it was a bit of a wakeup call to just how sad the real Derek must be, how self-loathing. Stiles swore to himself that he would do something about that. He didn’t think he could live without Derek’s adorable scrunched up happy face after this.

When Derek managed to stop laughing he dove into the pool, resurfacing next to Stiles, who immediately splashed him.

“Not cool dude. I don’t have spare clothes. Or even a towel!”

“Surely this school has a locker room, which is bound to house some spare towels.” Derek pointed out.

“Probably.” Stiles grumbled, even though it hadn’t really been a question.

“Besides. It’s California in the middle of summer. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Stiles had to admit that that was a good point.

They swam around for a while, splashing and dunking and racing each other (Stiles lost all splash wars and races. How surprising.) Derek was clearly enjoying himself, which was really a sure enough sign that his memory hadn’t been jogged yet.

“Come on Sourwolf, I’m shrivelling up, soon you won’t be able to tell me from a prune. Time to track down some towels.” He declared, hauling himself out the pool. Derek, of course, didn’t have a single wet wrinkle on him. How was it fair that werewolf healing even cured that!

As Derek pulled himself out the water Stiles got an obscene view of Derek as the water made his white shirt mould itself to his skin and had turned completely see-through. Even his jeans seemed to have become one with his skin. Stiles was watching a rivulet of water travel down Derek’s neck and make its way down his chest enticingly, he wanted to follow it with his tongue…

Then Stiles realised that not only was he staring, but he was also going to have a situation in his pants if he didn’t turn around and walk away immediately. So he made a beeline for the locker room and didn’t look back.

He managed to dig up a few spare towels before leading Derek back outside.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve had an idea.” Stiles replied, heading to the car.

“You’re not getting in my car dripping wet.”

“Thus the towels.”

Stiles lined the seats with the towels and plonked himself down again, motioning for Derek to get in and start the car. This time Stiles directed them to the preserve. Not only had it been Hale land, but he knew for a fact that Derek still spent a fair amount of time there, running around, doing his wolfy thing. He figured it would be the perfect place to stretch out in the sun and dry off.

“Where are we?”

“Just the preserve. You come here a lot.” He explained vaguely, lying down on the ground, passing Derek the lunch they’d made. They’d found a spot with a break in the trees providing a perfect picnic and sunbathing area. Not exactly the places Derek liked in the woods, but Stiles didn’t really want to lie on dead leaves, sticks and rocks to dry off.

Stiles didn’t want to take Derek to the Hale house. Well, what was left of it anyway. He didn’t want to have to tell Derek about his family and Kate. Especially Kate. And it was selfish and stupid. But Stiles wanted to keep this Derek, this happy Derek who enjoyed his company and laughed and smiled and joked. Derek didn’t deserve the hand he’d been dealt in life. He didn’t deserve to feel like he should deprive himself of happy and nice things.

As Stiles looked at him, lounging in the sunlight, eyes closed with a content little smile on his face, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. So even though it would only be for a little while, Stiles had resolved to protect him from the more tragic bits of his past. He’d have to tell him eventually.

Come to think of it, Derek had been strangely uncurious about his family (and most other things to be honest). Surely he was wondering where the hell they were? He’d have to tell him soon enough, so it almost didn’t matter. Just, not now.

They just lay there for a while, until they were completely dry and well into the afternoon. Stiles took Derek on a mini tour of the woods before deciding he should take Derek to the nemeton. He hated the idea really. The thing set his teeth on edge. It was the only place he could really feel the darkness that had been left in his heart after the pseudo-sacrifice. The reason the door was wide open for the Nogitsune.

But, it was powerful and connected with their pack and its adventures, so it may well be the magical push Derek needed to gain some memories back.

“Are you alright? You smell anxious?” Derek asked, resting his hand against Stiles back as they walked, the contact seemed to reassure him just as much a Stiles.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just, the place we’re going gives me the creeps.” Derek stopped and grabbed Stiles’ hand, halting him too.

“Then we don’t go.” He said simply.

“We should though. It can’t hurt me. It’s the nemeton, a big powerful tree stump that may have a shot at jogging your memory.”

“So why are you so anxious?”

“Short version is me, Scott and Allison were frozen pretty much to death so that we could function as pseudo-sacrifices and save our parents. But that came at a price. It left a scar, like a darkness in our hearts. It’s why the Nogitsune chose me and how it found it so easy to get in. Near the nemeton is the only place where I can truly feel the darkness.”

Derek looked even more reluctant than he did before Stiles had explained.

“Come on big guy. We don’t have to stay long, but we should at least try.” He was clearly against the whole idea but begrudgingly followed Stiles, albeit walking much closer than before (not that Stiles minded that at _all)._

When they got to the nemeton it wasn’t long before Stiles was shivering, despite the weather. He felt empty. He really hated this thing. Derek paced a couple of circles around it, scowling the whole time. Stiles could practically feel it thrumming with power and magic, he was sure Derek could too.

The longer they stood there the more on edge Stiles felt, more distressed, more disconnected. More _hollow._ He hadn’t even noticed Derek approaching until he had taken Stiles’ face in his hands and was looking directly into his eyes. Stiles instantly managed to refocus on Derek, grounded himself a bit.

Derek dragged Stiles against him, wrapping his arms around and holding him tightly. Stiles buried his face into Derek’s neck.

“You do not have darkness in your heart.” Derek whispered with such conviction it made Stiles believe him, “Your heart is filled with love and selflessness and generosity. And while sometimes you are sad or scared. You could _never_ be dark.” Stiles let out a light sob into Derek’s shoulder, clinging on even tighter, like if he let go he might get sucked away, back into the void.

“We’re leaving.” Derek stated. Stiles could only nod into him. He was going to untangle himself, but Derek just scooped him up and stalked away from the nemeton. Stiles didn’t have the energy to protest. The nemeton had drained it all from him.

They didn’t go anywhere else, Derek drove them straight home, allowing no arguments. Stiles wasn’t sure where he would take them next anyway. Even if he could come up with somewhere, the chances of it actually helping jog Derek’s memory seemed to be nada to zilch.

So back to the Stilinski house they went. They played video games (Stiles would always win the first one while Derek was still learning, then lose the rest by a mile. It was embarrassing.)

Stiles cooked them an early dinner so his dad could eat before heading out on shift. Stiles melted in humiliation as his dad and Derek bonded by his dad telling stories of Stiles’ childhood.

The only small mercy he could find was that his dad didn’t bring up their compromising position this morning, or threaten Derek with his guns, which now carried wolfsbane bullets. Actually, the whole sheriff’s department had wolfsbane infused bullets now (they just didn’t know it).

After dinner they returned to the sofa and Stiles threw on The Avengers, even though he felt dead on his feet.

“Why don’t we just go to bed?” Derek asked, “You’re clearly really tired”

“It’s barely even half eight! That’s way to early for any self-respecting teenager to go to bed”

“But you’re tired. It was a pretty exhausting day.”

“You’re not tired though.”

“I could sleep.” Derek shrugged.

“Nope, can’t do it. Going to bed too early will screw up my sleep cycle.”

“You’re a teenager. You’re ‘sleep cycle’ is permanently screwed up.” Derek pointed out, quite rightly.

“Don’t care, we’re watching The Avengers. ‘Cause even if you did watch it before – which I doubt – you don’t remember it and it’s awesome.” Stiles insisted, throwing himself down on the couch, Derek shook his head but smiled fondly and joined him.

Although Derek would probably never admit it, he got completely into the film. He even shushed Stiles (which wasn’t really out of character until you considered that it was so he could hear the plot of a superhero film). It was so strange watching Derek be playful and letting himself enjoy such simple things.

Stiles bet the Hulk was his favourite.

Loki was wreaking havoc in New York and Stiles was swaying around half asleep, trying to stay upright. On the third time he had to catch himself felling forward after drifting off Derek huffed out a laugh and wrapped an arm around Stiles shoulder, pulling him into his side and chest, inviting Stiles to use him as a big warm werewolf pillow. And Stiles was seriously not going to say no to that.

The next thing Stiles was aware of was strong arms gently placing him into bed.

“Dude, I’m not five.” Stiles mumbled, voice moderately slurred from where he’d been asleep.

“No. But you were asleep, didn’t see why I needed to wake you up. And don’t call me dude.” Derek murmured, clearly not wanting to wake Stiles up properly.

“Sure thing dude.” Stiles smiled sleepily, eyes already closed again, he distantly heard Derek huff out another little laugh. He thought he felt a hand brush along is cheek and down his nape, lingering slightly.

 

* * *

 

Stiles felt cold. Not just on his skin, he felt it right through him. He had a black hole inside him and it was sucking in all the light and warmth around him. He was at the nemeton. Its roots had him trapped, intertwined around him, they were pulling him down. They seemed to be drilling into his chest. He didn’t fight. He felt cold. He felt empty. But he also felt nothing. No emotions no feeling, just a gnawing darkness consuming him from the inside out.

Derek appeared in front of the nemeton. He started pulling at the roots, trying to free Stiles. He begged Stiles to help him, to fight. Stiles says there’s no point; it’s already got him. Derek continues to attack the roots, so one of them grabs him starts pulling him down too. That isn’t okay. Stiles fights to get free. It’s no use. The roots drag him down. Constricting and suffocating him.

Stiles fights and thrashes, but it’s pointless against the power of the nemeton. He’s powerless against its pull. He’ll always be powerless against it. Derek disappears from view but Stiles can still hear him shouting. Stile screams back. Screams for Derek to come back, for the nemeton to let him go.

Derek’s voice is getting fainter, fainter, fainter. He can’t hear him anymore. He’s gone. Stiles screams and cries. It’s his fault. They’re all his fault. He wants his mom. God, he wants his mom.

“Shhhh. Stiles, it’s okay.” Stiles is woken by Derek. He’s already behind him, gently swaying him awake. Stiles isn’t screaming or thrashing, he’s just crying. He feels a little bit broken. It’s like Derek is holding him together. He didn’t even have the energy to appreciate Derek’s naked chest behind him. He must’ve gotten hot during the night and taken off his sleep-shirt.

“I miss her so much.” He hadn’t really intended to say that, it just slipped out in a silent sob. But it felt good to say it, like he needed to have a good cry about it again. He misses her so much. Even more so since Scott was bitten. His life got so complicated but she would know exactly what to do. She always did.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“You were calling for me, then for her. You were crying.” Derek sounded quite distressed by the situation, by Stiles’ own discomfort. Without thinking Stiles tipped his head to the side, baring his neck, knowing it would comfort him. Derek buried his face in it with no hesitation, rubbing his face along Stiles’ neck and cheek. He was going to have some serious beard burn in the morning. He could already see his dad’s face.

“My mom, she died when I was ten. She had frontotemporal dementia. No ten year old should know how to pronounce that. But the information, it makes me feel safer. Comforted me to kind of know what was happening even though I couldn’t help it. The disease, it’s like your brain shrinks and causes dementia and then death. I was with her when she died. She hadn’t recognized me for weeks. But in those last moments I could see in her eyes, she knew who I was. She squeezed my hand and then she was, just, gone.”

“I’m so sorry Stiles. I know that doesn’t help or make it better, but I am. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. You’re being perfect just by being here. Just by listening.”

“I like listening to you.” Derek said sincerely, still holding Stiles tight, refusing to let him go.

So Stiles talked about his mom. Not just when she was ill, but about all the times before as well. He told him about the time Stiles felt silly because he had dropped ketchup on his shirt in a restaurant so his mom had splodged some on her own shirt as well. And how on his first day of school his mom had given him a packet of chips and told him to share it with the person he liked best in the class and that was how he and Scott had become friends.

He told Derek about the time he had fallen off his bike and broken his arm and hated having the lame old cast, so his mom had painted a beautiful abstract landscape on it. He told him about how the jeep was his moms and she had always said it was lucky because she met his dad when she hit him with it (not on purpose!) so she drove him to the hospital and they were in love before she’d even parked.

He even told Derek that his mom had always loved his ear-length hair whipping around all over the place and Stiles used to let her braid it and style it in the evenings. So when she died he couldn’t even look at it and had shaved his head for the next six years. It was only recently that he’d found the courage to grow it out again. Although he’s never be able to have it like it was.

He kept talking and Derek kept listening, absently petting Stiles’ head, running his fingers through his hair.

Eventually Stiles fell back asleep, but this time as Derek slipped out from behind him, Stiles grabbed his hand and asked him to stay. He needed the comfort. Derek slipped under the covers and held Stiles against his chest. Stiles was too shattered to feel self-conscious about it.

 

* * *

 

Luckily the Sheriff hadn’t caught them in bed together. Or he had and they had still been sleeping so he’d just given up and gone to bed himself, (which Stiles would definitely settle for). When he’d woken up his dad was already in bed recovering from the night shift and Derek was cooking breakfast.

He smiled shyly at Stiles as he came plodding down the stairs, he may not be a werewolf, but he was still more than capable of following the beautiful smell of bacon.

“Sorry, I wanted to stay but my stomach was rumbling so loudly I thought that might actually wake you up.”

“Man I am so not complaining, there is way too much bacon and pancakes for there to be any complaining.” Stiles said as he started shoveling the food in, he may have moaned pretty obscenely around a few mouthfuls. (What! The dude can cook!) Besides, as much as he would like to wake up in bed with Derek, he’d probably end up doing something stupid, embarrassing and highly inappropriate in his sleepy lust addled state.

As it was, he was doing his best to not stare at Derek’s naked chest. At least if he started to drool he could blame it on the food.

Halfway through his mound of pancakes Stiles phone started blaring California Girls at him - Scott’s ringtone (after all, he was the hot girl) – the whole pack got an individual tune, mainly just to wind them up when they found out.

“Ya?” Stiles managed around a mouthful.

“Stiles, its Scott. We have a problem.” Stiles slurred something incoherent around his food, but because Scott was his awesome best friend, he knew exactly what he’d tried to say. “No, it’s not about Derek. We’ve got a rabid omega wolf running wild and tonight is the full moon.”

“Shiiiiit.” Stiles exhaled after swallowing the remainder of his breakfast.

“Yeah. Basically it’s all hands on deck. Grab your mountain ash in case we have a chance to trap it. Bring Derek, we need all the power we can get, this thing is freakishly strong where it’s rabid, and with the moon it will be even stronger as it has completely given itself over to its pull.”

“That is a surprising amount of accurate sounding information for you Scott, I’m impressed.” Scott mumbled something about Christ Argent being a werewolf guru before telling them to get their butts over to his house and hanging up.

 

The entire pack had come together (which was way less unusual than it had been before and was actually happening semi-regularly now). Lydia was keeping an ear out for the possibility of death while the wolves tracked the omega, kitsune, hunter and token human (with a tiny spark of awesomeness!) were with them in case they were needed.

Unfortunately it was dark before they managed to find the wolf. Its scent had just coated the area as it roamed wildly making it hard to distinguish a route. They had to stop for a while, Malia still found it hard to maintain control under the full moon, but it was better for her to practice out in the open; after all, they had a bunch of werewolves and a hunter with them, they could hold her back if needed.

It was while they were helping Malia regain control that Stiles noticed Derek facing a tree, leaning against it. He was panting, his claws were extended, and Stiles could see his eye glowing. Shit. Derek couldn’t remember how to control the shift.

“Derek?” Stiles approached cautiously, but as soon as he placed his hand on Dereks back he relaxed. His claws retracted after a second, a few more and his eyes were under control, and soon his breath had returned to normal. He turned and slipped Stiles hand into his own, leaning back against the tree and looking up at the stars contentedly.

“For a second there I thought you’d forgotten how to control it.” Stile joked nervously.  

“I _was_ losing control. I couldn’t remember what my anchor was. I knew I needed one, that much was instinctual. But I couldn’t remember what it was.”

“Did you remember it? I think Erica once told me you used anger.”

“No. I found a new one.” Derek said, smiling at Stiles and squeezing his hand. Stiles’ heart fluttered and he felt butterflies in his stomach. He was pretty sure Derek meant him, it made him smile like a moron. He even managed to tamp down the guilt that reared up.

They rejoined the group as Malia settled, Derek didn’t let go of his hand. No one commented, even if there were a few more pointed looks.

It was going pretty smoothly. The pack had the omega caught in a wide circle between them while Stiles stealthily set down a smaller circle of mountain ash. He was about five paces from joining the ends and finishing the circle, he wasn’t concentrating on anything but believing the ash would work.

He was knocked sideways, a tearing pain in his side hurling him against a tree. He hit the ground with a dull thud and a scream, although that was mainly shock. He heard a vague roar and saw a lot of blood before blacking out.

 

When he came to he was on Deaton’s table and in no pain at all. He quickly realized that that was because of the thick black lines travelling up Derek’s arms all the way up to his neck, he looked pale.

“Derek. You need to stop. You’ll hurt yourself.” Stiles croaked out, pathetically trying to push Derek’s hand away.

“No. I’m fine.” Derek objected.

“You’re not fine you look like a sheet. I on the other hand, am not in any pain at all, so you can stop.” Derek looked skeptical, “Listen to my heartbeat – I am not in any pain – am I lying?” Derek shook his head a reluctantly took his hand away.

“You tell me as soon as you are in any pain.” Derek demanded.

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“Yeah Sourwolf, I promise.” Stiles placated, patting Derek’s arm. He noticed that the rest of the pack was actually in the room as well, not just the two of them. “So, what the hell happened?” Stiles asked, swinging his head around to everyone as much as he could.

“Well, when we’d though that the omega would instinctually stay away from you because of the smell of mountain ash, we were wrong. It attacked you. I’m so sorry dude.” Scott answered meekly, face riddled with guilt.

“Nah. Don’t worry man, not your fault.” He reassured.

“So it just kinda launched at you before any of us could react. You’ve got a pretty killer set of claw marks in your side.” Malia reported, clearly finding the whole thing more exhilarating than worrying.

“What?!” Stiles demanded, alarmed. “Can’t you turn from a scratch? Oh god. I don’t wanna be a stupid werewolf – no offence – but seriously I can’t even cope with the energy I have now.”

“Stiles.” Deaton silenced. “It is incredibly rare to be turned by a scratch. This one didn’t even go particularly deep, although it will scar. You’ve been out for a while and you’re not healing any faster than normal so we can assume that you are not turning.” Stiles sagged in relief.

“Well thank fuck for that. What happened next?”

“After scratching you the omega threw you against a tree. You’ll probably have some lovely bruises in the morning.” Peter added, looking far too happy about it.

“And then Derek, um, ripped the omega apart and was running you over to Deaton’s before the rest of us had time to blink.” Kira finished.

“Possible slight overreaction Derek, but thanks for defending my honor.” He joked.

“It hurt you. I just reacted.” Derek answered, sounding a little embarrassed but still like he wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Soon Deaton announced that Stiles would be fine and everyone could go home – Stiles with instructions to change his bandages in the morning and if it was still healing normally to rub on some concoction Deaton gave him that should speed up the process.

Derek was definitely stressed, staying even closer to Stiles than had become usual, he barely let go of his hand all the way from Deaton’s to Stiles’ bedroom.

“Hey, Sourwolf, it’s alright, I’m fine really. No harm done.”

“It hurt you.”

“Yeah but, it’s not bad I’m going to be fine.”

“I shouldn’t have let it happen. Should’ve protected you.” Derek forced out, looking at the floor but clinging to Stiles’ hoodie.

“It’s not your fault.” Derek started shaking his head and opened his mouth to protest, but Stiles got there first. “No. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault, it just wasn’t, so I ban you from blaming yourself.”

“But–”

“No! I ban you!”

“Bu–”

“Nope! You’re banned. It wasn’t your fault. Say it. Say it and believe it.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Derek muttered reluctantly.

“No, I need you to believe it.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Derek sighed, slightly more surety in his voice. “But I just I don’t like you being hurt, I can’t help that I feel like I should’ve been able to protect you it’s an instinct. I hate the idea that I couldn’t protect you, even if it wasn’t really my fault.”

“Okay. I get it.” Stiles replied, smiling softly at Derek.

Stiles started getting ready for bed, unfortunately as soon as he stretched to lift his shirt off he gasped and doubled over with a burning pain shooting through is side. Derek was on him is a second, sniffing around the wound and making a distressed whine before sneaking his hands under Stiles’ shirt and splaying them out against his skin, sucking the pain away.

“Hey Derek, it’s okay. I just shouldn’t stretch, no harm done, nothing re-torn.” Stiles said, petting his hair where Derek’s face was now resting against his tummy. “Seriously, no need to worry, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. You’re hurt.” Stiles was about to protest again, but Derek was gently manhandling him into sitting on the bed and helping him ease out of his shirt before he could speak. Then he was too preoccupied with Derek removing his shirt (Derek! In his bedroom! Undressing him!) to protest.

Most of Stiles’ concentration was going into thinking about Scott naked and starving children so that the avoided popping an inappropriate boner. It got even harder as Derek went to take off his pants as well. Stiles quickly batted his hands away.

“’S okay big guy I’ll get them.” He laughed nervously, whipped them off as fast as he could without hurting himself and slipped on his pajama pants. He decided not to bother struggling on a nightshirt.

Derek had taken the opportunity to slip into the sweats he was sleeping in too (Stiles was pretty sure he didn’t own pajamas, and was just wearing them for Stiles’ benefit at the moment). Stiles wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed about that.

Derek pressed his hand back against Stiles’ injury, desperately trying to take away pain that wasn’t even there anymore.

Stiles tried to pull away so that he could get into bed, but Derek made another little whine and didn’t let him go.

“What is it?” Stiles asked softly.

“I don’t want to let you go. I want to stay with you. I need to be able to keep you safe. I need– I just. I need _you._ ”

“Okay.” Stiles whispered.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Stiles pulled him up with him and they settled down under the covers. Stiles’ back against Derek’s chest, he drifted off feeling safer than he had in months.

 

* * *

 

Stiles started to wake up the next morning, letting out a yawn and snuggling back into the warm heat behind him. He had been having a delicious dream involving (unsurprisingly) his favorite broody werewolf and he had the morning wood to show for it.

He relaxed, sinking back even more. He squirmed his ass back until a few things happened. Frist there was a snuffling behind him and the warm weight on his stomach held him tighter – oh, right, that was an arm, _Derek’s arm_ in fact. Then something suspiciously hard came into contact with his ass and behind him an almost completely still asleep Derek made a delighted sound and rubbed against him.

Stiles gulped, this wasn’t a dream, he was in fact awake and that was just a couple of layers of fabric between Derek’s hard dick and his own ass. Which Derek, still mostly asleep, was now lightly grinding against him, Stiles’ own cock throbbed in response.

The very large and very horny part of Stiles that had lusted after Derek from first sight wanted nothing more than to push back into Derek. But he was not going to do that. With Derek in his current state as far as Stiles was concerned it would be officially taking advantage, and he wouldn’t do that, not after what Kate did.

Derek was still thrusting softly against Stiles, still seeming to be pretty much asleep, acting on instinct. Stiles was mustering the willpower to pull away, hopefully without waking Derek and causing a seriously embarrassing situation. However, before Stiles could even try to sneak away Derek’s hand was snaking lower down Stiles abdomen, subconsciously towards Stiles’ now very excited morning wood.

“Derek!” He squeaked just before he managed to reach his destination.

“Mmmm?” He replied, still all but snoring. At least his hand had stopped it’s descent in time.

“Can you let me up? I, um, need the toilet.” Stiles lied, but Derek must’ve been too tired to notice (the lie or the interesting position they were in) because he lifted his arm to let Stiles out.

Stiles hoped Derek couldn’t hear him jacking off in the shower, but to be honest he’d never been particularly quiet and right now he had the very fresh memory of Derek’s erection pushing against his ass, so he was pretty sure a few moans escaped. Maybe Derek would still be asleep enough not to notice.

As he made breakfast an adorable sleep rumpled Derek made his way down stairs. The werewolf came up behind Stiles and wrapped him up in his arms, burying his face into Stiles’ neck and breathing in deeply. It made Stiles shiver in all the right ways.

“You smell good.” He mumbled straight into Stiles’ skin, it made Stiles weak at the knees. “You smell fresh and just overwhelmingly like you. ’S nice.”

“Yeah?” Stiles couldn’t help the little shake in his voice.

“You didn’t have a nightmare last night.”

“No, you’re right.” Stiles realized, he hadn’t really had time to process that this morning (he’d been somewhat distracted to be fair).

“Why do you think you didn’t?” Derek asked cautiously. Stiles took a shaky breath, he was fairly sure he knew exactly why he hadn’t had a nightmare last night.

“Because you were with me. Holding me, keeping me safe. I knew nothing could get to me.” It was much easier to say when he wasn’t looking at him. To the old Derek it would’ve been hard to admit, like admitting to needing someone was a weakness. Unfortunately Stiles was getting the feeling that it wasn’t just anyone that he needed.

“Then I’ll stay from now on.” Derek whispered, Stiles wished it could be true beyond this little episode.

He was trying desperately not to fall for this version of Derek, because it just wasn’t really real. He had a horrible feeling that he was already too late. Thing is, he’d be lying to himself if he pretended that he hadn’t been falling for Derek even before his memories vanished.

“So,” Derek started, dragging his hand along Stiles’ back before walking around the other side of the table, “What’s the plan for today?”

“I was planning on trying to jog your memory a bit more, although I really don’t think it’s going to work.” Stiles responded.

“No harm in trying. Besides, I like hearing you tell me stories about us and the pack.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Never got the impression you liked it when I babbled before. Always thought you looked at me like I was somewhere between a hyperactive toddler and an annoying fly you couldn’t quite bring yourself to swat.” Stiles grinned, thinking that it was actually a pretty accurate description.

“Well either you had the wrong impression, or I was an idiot or quite possibly a bit of both from the stories you’ve been telling me. I can’t imagine not wanting to listen to you speak.” Derek smiled and Stiles couldn’t help the blush that crept over his cheeks.

So during the day Stiles took Derek on another tour of Beacon Hills. He quickly ran out of places that were significant to the pack (a disturbing amount of disasters have managed to center around the school, is anyone even _doing_ background check on their teachers.) As a result Stiles just took him on an extended tour, seeing the sights (not that there were many) and just wandering around the town.

They ended out in places like the park and library, figuring that Derek must’ve been there with his family at some point. Stiles wondered if Derek used to bring his little brother and sister here sometimes, push him on the swings. The thought made him feel guilty for withholding so much from Derek, but it was hard to feel guilty when Derek was smiling in a way he never used to before.

Stiles remembered when his dad came home the night of the Hale house fire, even though he was only nine. His dad looked tired, older than he had that morning and he wrapped Stiles and his mother up in one of the biggest, tightest hugs he’d ever given. When Stiles asked what had happened his dad just replied ‘there was a fire at the Hale house, a lot of people died today.’

When he was fourteen he got lost in the woods and stumbled upon the burnt out ruins and it piqued his interest. So he stole the file from his dad’s office and read it. He felt sick by the time he got to the end. Eight people had died in the fire. Peter’s wife and two sons, Derek’s parents, Cora (or so they thought at the time – even now no one was quite sure how she’d escaped) and finally there was Rufus and Jessica Hale, five year old twins, Derek’s little brother and sister.

It was difficult to want to tell Derek about that, even if he knew part of it was selfish.

“You don’t seem very curious about yourself?” Stiles commented gently at one point.

“I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. I feel like I’ve got everything I need.” Derek had replied, Stiles couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach and he’d tried not to feel too guilty.

So, instead of telling Derek about his family, he rambled inanely about anything and everything else while Derek just listened happily with a smile and an occasional laugh. They had lunch at Stiles favorite diner, sitting outside enjoying the sun.

Derek made a slightly disgusted face as Stiles was tucking into his cheesy curly fries and strawberry milkshake.

“What! It’s delicious.” Stiles argued ramming more fries into his already full mouth.

“Oh really?”

“Mmmmm.” He nodded and Derek swiped a few fries before he could react. “Hey! Eat your burger, keep your paws off my food!” Derek raised a slightly amused eyebrow at the mild dog joke.

“No, you’re right. These are delicious. I think I’ll have them instead.” He teased stealing the whole basket of fries, Stiles gasped and quickly tried to snatch the basket back, but Derek just stood up and held it above his head.

Curly fries were now on the line, so Stiles decided to implement some newfound knowledge.

He put his hands on Derek’s waste and began to tickle. Derek was so caught off guard and dropped the fries almost instantly, which by some absolute miracle Stiles managed to catch without many poor fries falling to the floor. Stiles gave his best shit-eating grin as he stuffed a fry into his mouth.

They sat back down and continued to eat, sharing the fries between them. Stiles drank his milkshake, chewing on the straw and rolling in over his tongue distractedly when he noticed Derek staring at his mouth.

“What?”

“You have milkshake on your face.” Derek answered sounding fond. Stiles swiped his arm across his face randomly, Derek smiled and shook his head. He lent across the table and Stiles held his breath as he ran his thumb slowly across Stiles’ top lip before sitting back and popping it into his own mouth, sucking it off. Blood rushed to Stiles’ groin at the sight and he felt his cheeks burning.

In the afternoon Stiles continued their pointless, but nonetheless enjoyable, wander around town. They’d spent the rest of the day playfully annoying and teasing each other, if Stiles was honest with himself he knew they’d been flirting. But he wasn’t honest with himself because then he would feel obliged to stop and truthfully he didn’t want it to stop.

It was getting dark by the time they were walking back to the Stilinski residence.

“I had a really nice time today.” Derek said, almost shyly, bumping Stiles’ shoulder with his own as he spoke.

“Yeah. Me too.” Stiles answered. In actual fact it had been one of the best days of Stiles’ life. The only other person he felt this at ease with was Scott, and that relationship was thankfully free of flirting.

Derek’s fingers brushed against his own before taking Stiles’ hand and intertwining their fingers. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to pull them away, even though he knew he should. When they reached the door Stiles turned to pull his hand away, but instead he found himself looking into Derek’s eyes.

It had always felt strange to Stiles that there was only and inch separating them in height, for some reason he always imagined Derek to be taller. Up close Stiles could see how beautiful Derek’s eyes really were. They were green blue and hazel all at the same time and managed to be pale but still bright. But that wasn’t what made Stiles stare. What made him stare was the stark openness and trust that he found in them, completely unguarded as Derek looked at him.

Derek’s other hand ghosted along Stiles’ cheek, making him shiver and heat up simultaneously. His big hand then cupped Stiles’ jaw, thumb running gently along his lower lip before he closed his eyes and lent in.

Stiles hated himself. Derek’s lips barely brushed his own before he forced himself to pull away. He apparently had more self-control than he gave himself credit for because he managed to do it, despite his entire heart and body practically screaming for more. He looked at the floor, slightly ashamed. He didn’t let go of Derek’s hand.

“I don’t understand?” Derek said, sounding confused and a little hurt; Stiles tried not to focus on that. “I thought you wanted this. I thought I could smell…” Derek started to withdraw, embarrassed, thinking Stiles didn’t want him like that even though he could literally smell it, Stiles held on tight.

“No you do, I do.” Stiles admitted still looking at the floor. Derek used his free hand to tilt Stiles head back up so that he could look at him.

“Then, why–?”

“It’s just complicated. It’s all messed up. I want you, I do. But this isn’t the real you, not really. And because I know that I’d be taking advantage and I don’t want to do that.” Stiles explained.

“I am real.” Derek had replied quietly. “But I understand. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable.” Stiles reassured, “If anything you make me too comfortable. It’s easy to forget.”

“Forget what?” He didn’t answer because the answer was forget the fact that normal Derek didn’t feel that way about Stiles, didn’t want to kiss him or be kissed by him. It was a thought that was becoming more painful every time he did think about it. He desperately wanted to forget, but he wasn’t going to let himself.

Instead Stiles just led them upstairs quietly, not wanting to think about the painful truth. He slipped under the covers and Derek followed wordlessly, holding Stiles tight to his chest and stroking his side rhythmically.

When Stiles was almost asleep, he thought he heard Derek whisper ‘I could never not want you.’ But he couldn’t be sure.

 

* * *

 

The next day, over breakfast, Derek asked the question Stiles had been dreading.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is my family?” Stiles froze desperately not wanting to have to tell him. “You mentioned I have a sister in New York, but what about the rest of them? I must’ve had parents at least.” Stiles thought of the huge family Derek had and the burnt out shell of a house, he couldn’t help the twist of sadness he felt for Derek in his gut.

“Are you okay? You smell sad.”

“No. I mean yeah. I should, I should show you.”

That morning Stiles drove his jeep up to the remains of the Hale house and climbed out. Derek looked confused, he sniffed the air and curled his nose up. It probably still smelt overwhelmingly of ash and death.

“What happened here?”

“This was your house.” He explained sadly. “Your family was inside.”

“How many?” Stiles almost didn’t hear, he said it almost inaudibly.

“Seven. Your aunt, Peter’s wife, and their two sons. Peter was in a coma for years. Your parents, and your little brother and sister. Originally everyone thought Cora had been in there as well, she only reappeared a few months ago, we still don’t know how she survived. You and your older sister Laura weren’t home.”

“Weren’t they wolves too? How did it happen?”

“It was a hunter named Kate.” Stiles swallowed, “She tricked her way into your home, pretending to be an ally. When she was trusted she managed to sneak in during the night and start the fire from within. She’d circled the house with mountain ash, no one could escape.” He couldn’t, just couldn’t bring himself to tell the whole truth about Kate. Derek didn’t need that. He could be free of that, even if only for a little while longer. Derek just nodded.

“What about Laura? You said she wasn’t there either.”

“She took you to New York so that you could start fresh, be safe, like Cora is now. But then she had to come back here, I’ve never been sure exactly why. She was being lured here so that she could be murdered.” Stiles wasn’t going to explain about Peter either. He didn’t need to know it had been Peter, didn’t see the need to rub salt in the wound.

“It’s such a sad way to remember them. Why haven’t I restored it? Remember them by their lives instead of their deaths?” Stiles knew it was because Derek never wanted to let himself forget what he’d done. Even though it wasn’t his fault, Derek just found that too hard to believe.

“I don’t know. But I think that is a very good idea.” Is what he said instead.

They drove back home and Stiles found the newspaper article online and showed Derek. He looked sad and was taking every opportunity to touch Stiles, presumably for comfort. But Stiles didn’t think he looked like a man who just received the new that his entire family had been brutally murdered.

“You’re wondering why I’m not sadder.” Derek stated, Stiles nodded slightly self-consciously, after all, everyone was entitled to their own way of grieving, who was he to judge. Not that Derek appeared to be grieving at all, just slightly sadder than had become usual.  

“It’s strange. I know they were my family but I don’t remember them. It is sad, but it’s like it happened to someone else. I don’t feel like I’ve lost anyone because, it’s like I never knew them.” It made sense, so Stiles nodded and smiled as Derek set up Mario Kart claiming that Stiles needed to be able to pull his own weight on pack game nights.

Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if Derek was better off like this. Not remembering his family at all, completely free of the burden of guilt that had been crippling him for years. He shouldn’t blame himself anyway, Kate was a psychotic manipulative bitch, and Derek had only been sixteen. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t shake the guilt.

But he knew he was being selfish. He wouldn’t trade the memories of his mother for anything. He couldn’t let wanting to keep Derek get in the way.

“Why didn’t you tell me? About my family, I mean. When you were taking me around trying to jog my memory.” Derek asked later when they were settling down to watch Iron Man.

“I wanted to protect you. Keep you safe from all that pain.” Stiles admitted quietly, feeling slightly silly but knowing he would do the same thing again if the situation repeated itself.

Derek didn’t reply, he just tucked Stiles into his side and held him close.

 

* * *

 

The next day Stiles decided to ring Deaton and get an update.

“Hi, it’s Stiles.”

“Yes I know who it is.”

“Dude you are a lot of things, cryptic as fuck being one, but I’m pretty sure psychic isn’t another.”

“No, but I do have caller id.”

“Oh, right.”

“What is it Stiles? I assumed you called for a reason.”

“Yeah, I was wondering if we could get an update on recovering our local broody wolfs memories. Although, I’m not sure broody is a particularly accurate adjective anymore.”

“Stiles. Please stop rambling, I am quite busy. To answer your inquiry, I should hear back for my contact in the Middle East fairly soon. I will let you know when I know something. But right now I have a Labrador to tend to. Goodbye Stiles.”

“Well, that was vague as ever.” Stiles grumbled. “Anyway, what do you wanna do today? We could go see a film?” he asked with unnecessary arm flailing (he literally couldn’t help it. His limbs had a mind of their own. But going by the amused expression on Derek’s face, he’s already realized this.)

“That sounds good.” Derek replied with a smile that made Stiles blush. He seriously needed to get the blushing under control.

Derek drove them in the Camaro, still refusing to let Stiles drive and manhandling him out of the driver’s seat, this time by slipping one arm under his legs and the other under his arms and dumping him across into the passenger side. Stiles made and indignant huff, but it was hard to protest too much when Derek’s arm didn’t move from around his shoulders the whole journey.

People were literally staring as Derek bought their tickets and popcorn – he’d found his wallet when they were at the loft last and was insisting on paying – it occurred to Stiles that this probably looked like a date. In fact, given that Derek had now taken to holding Stiles’ hand pretty much constantly, it _definitely_ looked like a date. As far as everyone in the cinema was concerned, local bad boy Derek Hale and the sheriff’s son had just waltzed out of the closet hand in hand.

Which was ridiculous (well, not the gay thing as that was apparently very un-ridiculous. But the date thing.)

Because this wasn’t a date. Was it?

Stiles groaned internally, when Derek got his memories back he was going to kill him, Stiles had officially ruined the dangerous, broody, and mysterious demeanor that he’d been building up and perfecting for years. Seriously, who was going to be scared of him now he’s been spotted holding hands and buying popcorn for the sheriff’s son.

Stiles decided to ignore the onlookers and just enjoy himself, the damage was already done, as there was no doubt that the whole of Beacon Hills High already knew. First time ever that Stiles was hot gossip. Hopefully the last too.

Derek had got them tickets to some run of the mill horror film and Stiles had a sneaking suspicion it was just so he could laugh at Stiles being scared. Which he did. Multiple times. It was only when Stiles took extreme measures and burrowed himself into Derek’s shoulder that he stopped laughing and wrapped an arm around Stiles instead, running his fingertips through his hair.

The film ended without Stiles seeing any of the last hour (not that he minded), Derek untucked Stiles from under his arm and took his hand easily when they stood and left.

As they drove back to the Stilinski house, Stiles tried to get Derek to actually explain the last hour of the film.

“People got hunted down and ripped apart by a very inaccurate portrayal of a werewolf.”

“I dunno. You always have had a habit of threatening to rip my throat out.”

“Really?”

“Yep, with your teeth.” Stiles grinned.

“But I never actually hurt you.” Derek half asked half stated.

“Well, you did have a habit of throwing me up against walls by my shirt and twice you smacked my head on the jeep’s steering wheel.” He teased, it wasn’t like any of that had actually hurt.

“But I didn’t hurt you?” Derek said sounding torn between worried and amused by the anecdote.

“Nah. Not even a bruise, you must’ve been being very careful about your level of force. I think you may have just been pulling my pigtails.” Stiles answered with a wink.

“I probably was.” Derek replied; Stiles snorted as he knew exactly how likely that was really (i.e. not a chance in hell).

“Sure thing big guy.” Stiles joked in response as Derek pull up on the driveway; but he made no move to climb out of the car and seemed to be deciding whether or not to say something, he kept opening and closing his mouth. Stiles thought he looked like a fish. An obscenely attractive fish.

“Hey, Derek. Use your words. We’ve been doing so much better than your usual monosyballic sentences, don’t break the record now.” He joked, doing a full bodied swivel in his seat to face Derek.

“Are we, were we, together? It’s just, I can’t tell if we are – were – before I lost my memories.” Stiles couldn’t help the floundering that his limbs executed, a few of which smacked the roof, he could feel himself getting flustered, completely blindsided by the question.

“N-no. We’re not.” Stiles answered, scratching the back of his head nervously. He could swear he could see a flash of disappointment in Derek’s eyes.

“Why not?” He asked simply, the sincerity of it caught Stiles off-guard again.

“Because I’m pretty sure you don’t even like me very much really.” Stiles admitted, staring at his lap. He felt as though he’d tricked Derek, almost like he’d been lying to him about their relationship, even though he’d never said anything that wasn’t true.

“How could I not?” Derek argued earnestly.

“Because you think I’m an annoying spazz who talks too much.” He replied. “Besides, you’re all– and I’m just–” Stiles gestured wildly and Derek and then more limply at himself.

“You are a spazz and you do talk too much. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you. And you’re being stupid. You’re beautiful, you’re tall and fair and have this adorable upturned nose and all these infuriating moles that I just want to trace with my tongue. You’re beautiful.” Derek disputed fiercely as Stiles blushed.  

“Trust me, real you, you with your brain intact doesn’t agree.” Stiles felt pretty deflated by this point, he couldn’t bring himself to look up at Derek and his stupid gorgeous face.

“I don’t believe that. I may have lost my memories, but I’m still me, and I like you. I like you a lot.” Stiles just shook his head gently, unable to believe it. Derek’s hand came up and cupped his chin, coaxing him into looking back up. “Then I was an idiot.” He lent forward and kissed Stiles lightly on the cheek, barely a brush of his lips but Stiles’ skin tingled regardless.

“Can I ask, what made you think we were together, before all this?” he inquired, making a broad gesture that was supposed to mean their recent closeness.

“You smell like mine.” Stiles made a slightly confused face, so Derek explained. “It’s not like you smell like me and me like you, which I guess you would if we were been together. It’s not that simple. It’s not a scent I can articulate very well. You just, smell like you belong to me.

“You smell like home and family and safety and warmth and love. All these abstract concepts that I know you can’t actually smell, and yet, that’s what your scent makes me feel. So when I catch your scent I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Where I belong.”

“Oh…I didn’t know.” Stiles said lamely, just looking at Derek, unable to communicate all the things he was feeling. All the hopeful little parts of his brain saying that he must’ve always smelt that way to Derek so maybe he did have a chance, before the rational voices in his head told him he was being an optimistic moron.

Derek’s eyes seemed to search his, before he lent slowly across the seats, giving Stiles plenty of time to pull away. He didn’t.

Derek’s lips were impossibly soft with only a scarce pressure against his own, Derek was waiting for Stiles to reciprocate, waiting for some kind of permission to _really_ kiss him.

So Stiles pushed back and Derek responded immediately, running his tongue along the seam of Stiles’ lips, which opened for him readily. Derek brought his hands up to cup Stiles’ face as his tongue slipped into Stiles’ mouth and dragged deliciously against his own tongue. Stiles moaned into the kiss while Derek licked into his mouth and started practically fucking into Stiles’ mouth with his tongue.

One of Derek’s hands moved up to tug on Stiles hair and he couldn’t help but notice his jeans had got a lot tighter as he scrambled for purchase against Derek’s chest. Derek’s other hand ran teasingly down Stiles’ chest before brushing tauntingly over the hardness in his pants.

“Derek, Derek, stop. Please.” Stiles gasped, almost begged. Although if he was honest he wasn’t sure if he was begging him to stop or carry on. He knew he wouldn’t have the willpower to even bother to try and stop again. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“The real you doesn’t want this. I don’t want to stop, god knows I don’t want to stop, but I won’t take advantage of you like that. I won’t do that.” Derek forced himself to stop, probably finding it even harder to concentrate with the thick cloud of lust that Stiles must be emanating. He brought his hands back to resting on Stiles’ face.

“I am real.” He whispered, practically inaudibly, before asking “Can I still kiss you? Please, don’t ask me to stop kissing you. I– I need– I don’t think I could not, now, after–” Derek sounded so vulnerable it broke Stiles a little, he nodded and lent forwards to kiss Derek again, show him that this was alright.

Truthfully he’s not sure he could stop kissing Derek, not now that he had. He didn’t think he could give it up. Stiles tried not to think that no matter what, it would be temporary. As soon as Derek got his memories back it would stop. Stiles didn’t know how he was going to cope.

They went back inside, spending the remainder of the day doing nothing in particular, but with an added layer of intimacy.

When Stiles was making dinner, he noticed Derek looking at him with one of his amused Stiles-you’re-such-a-moron expressions.

“What?”

“You have sauce on your nose.”

“I do? How the hell did it get up there!”

“Presumably when you were stirring like a lunatic with little care for the fact that half the mixture was flying out the bowl.”

“That’s an exaggeration. ‘S not half. There’s plenty left. And if there’s not enough, it’s growly critical werewolves who’ll miss out.” Stiles grumbled going back to his saucepan, already having forgotten about the sauce on his nose. Derek sighed and wandered over, spinning Stiles around and kissing the tomato sauce off his nose. Stiles blushed and carried on cooking, Derek smirked and sat on the countertop.

 

That night they slipped into bed together and Derek gave him a lingering kiss before turning him and holding him close against his chest. Stiles wasn’t sure how he was going to survive losing this.

 

* * *

 

They spent the next few days hanging with the pack, doing not much of anything except regaling Derek with pack stories. The pack was chilling in the preserve when Stiles got a call from Deaton.

“Deaton?”

“Hello, Stiles.”

“So? Any news or updates or miraculous easy to achieve cures?” Stiles prompted when Deaton didn’t continue.

“Yes and no.” Deaton replied cryptically. “I’ve been speaking with my contacts and they are aware of a cure, it’s fiddly and everything needs to be exact and some of the required ingredients may be difficult to collect. But other than that it’s perfectly doable. The spell itself isn’t tricky.”

“Okay, so what do we need?”

“Well most importantly, as this is a wish relating to memory, you will need some kind of talisman for Derek that connects him to his past. It can be anything really.”

“Uh-hu.” Stiles acknowledged, scribbling the list down on a piece of paper.

“Most easily to acquire will be the hair of a Banshee, as I’m sure Lydia will oblige, and the help of a healer during the actual ritual, where I’m sure Mrs McCall will be more than happy to help.”

“But doesn’t a vet count as a healer?”

“Yes, but I will be the one performing the spell, and therefore cannot act as the healer.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You will also need to find a couple of raven feathers – and you must be sure they are from a raven, so please don’t just pick up some random black feathers from the ground.” He specified, giving Stiles a pointed look.

“As if I would! I do realize that this is important you know.” Stiles protested.

“Quite. Anyway, you also need to get the blood of a witch, the tooth of a wendigo – although I may have one of those in storage – you also need to find _Aconitum delphinifolium_ , it’s a species of wolfsbane known as Larkspurleaf Monkshood, you may ask Chris, he might have some or at least know someone who does. Finally you need the spit of a siren.”

“Well most of that seems doable, but, um, how the hell are we supposed to get the blood of a witch and the spit of a siren?! It’s not like I know any!”

“Well, you’re going to have to find one. It also has to be carried out on a specific day of the lunar cycle. In short, you have two weeks. If you miss the deadline it’s not the end of the world we’ll just have to try again next month. Although, the longer a genie’s wish is in effect, the less likely it is we will be able to reverse it without the genie’s help. So best be ready in two weeks. They’re not easy to find.”

“Harder than finding witches blood and siren spit.” Stiles grumbled.

“Yes Stiles, harder than that.”

“Well, can’t you help us, isn’t this kind of your area? You are an emissary.”

“No, I was an emissary. Now, I’m a vet, with a business to run. I’m sure you’ll manage, you’ve yet to fail us so far.” Deaton finished and hung up the phone with Stiles still complaining

Scott was leading Malia, Kira, Isaac, Derek and even Peter was begrudgingly joining in with some kind of training exercise that involved a disgusting amount of running and climbing, while Lydia was sunning herself next to Stiles. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Guys.” Stiles shouted to get their attention, they may have wolfy hearing but they’re pretty preoccupied and spread out. Nevertheless everyone appeared out of the trees in no time, wandering over to where Stiles and Lydia were sat.

They all gathered round, Scott, Kira and Isaac plopped themselves down on the ground, Malia sat herself next to Lydia and Peter lurked on the side. Derek walked round and scooped up Stiles easily before sitting them both down with Stiles in his lap. At this point, no one even batted an eyelash.

They’d spent the past few days around the pack, acting in very much the same way. No one had even commented, just raised an eyebrow at the newfound intimacy and went about their business. It seemed like no one wanted to say anything in case Derek pulled away. Not that Stiles thought he would. Not until he got his memories back anyway.

“So Deaton gave me a list, and we have two weeks to get it all so we hit the right phase of the moon.”

“Awesome. What’s on the list?” Scott asked, all happy positivity.

“Well, that’s not so awesome. No clue how we’re going to get some of it.”

“Come on, spit it out.” Lydia prompted.

“First thing was the hair of a banshee. So I’m going to be needing a strawberry blonde strand of perfection from you.” Lydia sighed.

“Fine. I’ll give it to you on the day, or you’ll lose it.”

“Excellent. We’re also going to need your mom’s help during the actual spell. Something about the help of a healer.” Stiles told Scott

“Yeah? She won’t mind, I’ll talk to her.”

“Actually, if she needs to be there during the spell, could I talk to her? Get to know her a little beforehand?” Derek asked.

“Yeah sure. Stiles knows her schedule at the hospital, pop over whenever.” Scott replied happily, “She knows what’s going on so you won’t have to catch her up completely.”

“Sweet. We’ve also got to find raven feathers, a kind of wolfsbane called Larkspurleaf Monkshood – Deaton suggested we ask Chris for that. A wendigo tooth but Deaton thinks he might already have that, and the hardest ones: witches blood and siren spit.”

“How on earth are we supposed to get hold of witches blood and siren spit. Ask them nicely?” Isaac stated sarcastically.

“Actually. I did know a siren once. And she had no problems with the exchange of bodily fluids.” Peter remarked, much to the disgust of everyone in the room.

“Dude. Way too much information, please shut up.” Stiles groaned screwing his face up.

“My point is. I’m sure I can get hold of it, so long as I ask very, very nicely.” Peter said with a leer at Isaac then Stiles. Derek’s arm around his waist tightened fractionally.

“Right well, you can piss off for a while and go get it, can’t you? You big undead creeper.” Stiles snarked back.

“Cool. So, biggest problem is the witch’s blood. Any ideas?” Stiles scanned around the room, looking at a lot of fairly blank faces. “Right, well. I guess we could contact some other wolfpacks – Scott you mentioned that the ones you’ve contacted in San Francisco and Seattle are friendly – and we can contact Cora and her pack, see if any of them either know how to find a witch, or better yet, have one in their pack that would be willing to donate.”

“That sounds like a really good plan.” Kira reassured

“Great. Scott, you contact those packs, I’ll ring Cora. Isaac, you live with Chris now right? Hopefully he will have the wolfsbane, find out. Malia, think you can grab us a raven and pluck a few feathers? Use those keen hunting skills you spent eight years perfecting. Peter go get us the spit, whatever methods you think, um, appropriate.”

The pack nodded with various levels of enthusiasm, from Scott and Kira’s quick happy agreement to Isaac’s why-am-I-even-here look.

“Best get on it then. Two week deadline and all that. We’re burning daylight here!” Stiles mock commanded (only not really 'cause they actually did need to get moving, better ready early than late).

The pack set off on their various missions and Stiles called Cora as Derek drove them home in the Camaro.

“Hey Cora, its Stiles. We’ve got a bit of a situation here in Beacon Hills – don’t worry you don’t need to come back, unless you want to that is – Basically, Derek’s managed to accidently wish away his memories. The situation is under control though, we know what we need to do, which is actually why I’m calling. One of the things we need is witches blood, so we were wondering if you had a friendly witch in your pack, or knew how to find one? Call me back when you get this message. Oh! And we’re working on a deadline here, two weeks, so don’t dawdle. Bye!”

“Okay, so, now we just have to wait for Cora and the other packs to get back to us and hopefully everyone else will do their jobs too.”

“You’re very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Planning, getting the pack moving with purpose. Rather than just running around cluelessly.”

“Yeah, well, the token human needed to find something to do.”

“You’re not the token human. From what I’ve seen and been told over the past few days, you’re what holds the pack together.” Stiles just snorted, in a pack full of supernatural creatures, what use was he really?

“I’m serious, Scott’s one of the kindest people I’ve met, but he’s also an oblivious idiot. He may be the alpha, but it’s your plans we always follow, it’s you who connects the dots and works everything out. In the end it’s you who’s Lydia’s main friend now, you who got Malia to join the pack, and you who I trust, and by the sounds of it, always trusted. You’re the one who unites the Hale and McCall sides of the pack.”

“Oh, I’d never thought about it like that before.” Stiles answered.

“Well you should, because it’s the truth.” Derek stated bluntly, Stiles just looked at his lap and tried to contain his proud smile, despite Stiles not saying anything, Derek seemed to take his lap-smile as confirmation that Stiles did in fact now believe that was true.

 

* * *

 

Stiles flailed around, swiping blindly at his bedside table, trying to locate his phone which was ringing and blaring out Born To Be Wild – that ringtone meant Cora.

He managed to pick up the phone, but only after knocking his lamp on the floor, although he would maintain that that was Derek’s fault for grabbing him about the waist and trying to drag him back down into bed while he floundered around. He looked through bleary eyes at the clock to see that it was only 4am.

“Hello?” He croaked though his sleep-thick voice, attempting to fend of Derek’s grabby hands and ignore his unhappy little grunts at being woken up.

“WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU CALL ME SOONER!” Stiles winced and dropped the phone as she screamed in his ear and he had to scrabble around to find it again, Derek buried his head under the pillow and tightened his arm around his waist.

“Cora, it’s four in the morning here. Please don’t shout.” He begged, flopping back down next to Derek.

“I really don’t care what the time is. I would slap you if I could.” She sounded moderately furious, Stiles winced internally, he should have called her sooner. But to be honest he was hoping he wouldn’t need to worry her as she’d tried so hard to wash her hands of Beacon Hills – of course that doesn’t include her brother – _Shit_ , he really should have told her.

“Cora I’m really sorry, I fucked up, should’ve told you. I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to worry you. I mean, Derek’s fine, physically, even mainly mentally, he’s just missing his memories. And we know how to cure it. And I swear if I was actually worried about his survival I would have called you immediately–”

“Stiles! Shut up.” She demanded, sounding slightly less angry (Stiles counted that as a win).

“Okay. Sorry. Here, you can talk to Derek, confirm for yourself that he’s okay.” Stiles prodded Derek in the side. “Derek, it’s your sister, Cora, I told you about her. You need to talk to her, reassure her you’re alright.”

“Yes Stiles, I could hear you both.” Derek grumbled taking the phone. “Hello?” Stiles couldn’t hear what Cora was saying as he didn’t have stupid werewolf superpowers.

“What? Um…yes.” There was definite laughing but he couldn’t make out any of the words. No, wait, not laughing, full-on _cackling_.

“I don’t see why you find it so funny.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Stiles is looking after me.” There was definitely more cackling.

“I know. I know I do.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Derek passed the phone back to Stiles.

“What were you laughing about?” Stiles asked accusingly.

“Stiles, its four in the morning there.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You passed the phones straight to Derek and yet, I didn’t hear you move out of your bed.”

“Yeah, so?” Stiles paused, Cora just waited patiently for the other shoe to drop “Oh shit!” Stiles exclaimed embarrassed, face reddening.

“Yep. Care to tell me why you’re in bed with my brother? Although I must say, it’s about time, you’ve been dancing around each other long enough. I mean seriously, I’ve tried telling Derek to get over himself, it was getting old.”

“Um, well, we were – wait, what?”

“I guess it just took literally forgetting all his bullshit to get on with it. Oh well.”

“Stop, Cora, what are you talking about?”

“See, I think this whole experience is going to be good for him. And, incidentally, for you too.” Stiles was so confused. “Anyway, witches. We don’t have one, they’re generally a bit too bitchy and unpredictable to have in a pack. But I can get alpha Cortez to ask around and get back to you later.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles answered a little dazed.

“Great. Anyway. I’ve got stuff to do. Oh, and Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurt my brother and I’ll rip out your spleen and eat it. Bye Stiles!”

“Bye Cora.” Stiles managed, still trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

He put the phone back down and immediately had Derek wrapping himself back around him, burrowing back down onto the bed, falling back asleep almost instantly.

 

They didn’t wake up again until ten. Well Stiles didn’t wake up until ten, Derek was currently kissing Stiles awake. He was running his hand up and down Stiles’ side and pressing his lips against his neck. Stiles moaned and stretched out like a cat, luxuriating in the whole situation.

Derek decided to take Stiles’ pleased noises as permission to carry on. He started nibbling on Stiles’ ear lobe, running his tongue over the shell and his hand was clutching his hip sporadically. Stiles tipped his head back and met Derek’s lips in a searing kiss with too much tongue and too little coordination.

“Derek.” He gasped, as Derek rolled him for easier access to his mouth. He bit Stiles’ lip gently startling a moan out of him. Stiles was vaguely aware that he was completely hard and his pajamas pants did absolutely nothing to hide it. He couldn’t be bothered to care.

Derek rolled on top of Stiles, keeping their bodies a hair’s breadth apart. Stiles could feel the heat coming off him, could see his pupils blown open with lust. He rested his forearms either side of Stiles’ head and rested the length of his body on top of Stiles’, he could feel Derek’s fully hard dick pressing against his hip.

He continued attacking Stiles’ mouth, sucking on his tongue. Stiles ran his hands up into Derek’s hair, like he’d always wanted to, and scraped his nails across though; Derek moaned into it and rolled his hips down, making their cocks rub against each other teasingly through the thin layers of fabric.

“Derek.” Stiles whimpered. “We should stop.” But all he did was roll his own hips up to meet Derek’s, making them both whine a little. “T-the real you wouldn’t want this. Please, I-I want this. So badly. But you’ll hate me and I can’t, I can’t.” Derek made himself still his hips and look down at Stiles, face tender but words firm.

“I could never hate you. I am the real Derek and I do want this, want you. More than you can possibly know. And even if when I get my memories back I feel some kind of insane need to deprive myself of this, right now, I don’t.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of.” Stiles said in a small voice, “I can’t have you and lose you. I won’t be able to cope.” He knew, for a fact, he couldn’t face having Derek then losing him, that was different to never having him. Derek would blame him for talking advantage and he would lose him, and it would kill him.

“I’ve always wanted you. I won’t be able to give you up either.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. Your scent would have always smelt the same to me, regardless of the state of my memories. And then there’s the comments I catch from the pack and the fact that no one seems at all surprised, and what Cora said. I promise you, me right now and me with my memories, we both want you.” Derek said with such surety that Stiles nearly believed him. And he wanted, god, he wanted.

So he let himself be convinced, he didn’t have the willpower to stop it again, not when he’d wanted it for so long.

Stiles didn’t reply, he just lent up and kissed Derek lightly, which was all the encouragement the werewolf needed to pick up where they left off, turning the delicate kiss into a hot, bruising clash, rolling his hips back down to meet Stiles’.

Derek’s hand stroked down Stiles’ torso and grasped hold of his hip, thumb caressing the vee of his hips before toying with the hairs of his snail trial. Stiles panted into his mouth and gasped as Derek’s hand moved to touch Stiles’ aching cock through his pants. He started to drag the material over his erection, tightening somewhat when he reached the head before slacking his grip faintly and pumping him again. _That was_ _Derek Hale’s hand on his dick._

“Off.” Derek growled, tugging at Stiles’ pants.

“Hey, wait a sec, I like these.” Stiles managed to gasp out, realizing that Derek was just going to rip them of. He quickly kicked them off and discarded them. The only thing that separated Derek’s hand and his dick now was his boxers, which he was pretty sure had a rather embarrassing wet spot in them by now.

The werewolf started to kiss, suck and lick his way down Stiles’ chest, he’d have some pretty impressive hickeys littering his body in the morning. He didn’t mind. Derek latched his mouth over one of Stiles’ nipples and nipped it, before running his tongue over it and sucking hard, sending sparks shooting down to Stiles’ already rock hard dick.

“Oh fuck. Derek, please.” Stiles moaned, hips bucking up. It felt like there was a direct link between his nipples and his dick in that moment, he’d always known they were quite sensitive, but he’d never known it could be _this_ good.

Derek release his nipple only to repeat his ministrations on the other, making Stiles whine so loudly he had to clamp his hand over his mouth.

“No. I want to hear you.” Derek rumbled, voice rough with sex, pulling his hand away and pinning it to the bed.

“My dad.” Stiles muttered, really not wanting to think about his dad right now.

“He’s not here.” Derek reassured, his mouth resuming its tauntingly slow descent down Stiles’ body. He bit and sucked what would be an obscene hickey into one of Stiles’ hips, running his hands up and down the inside of his thighs, which at some point Stiles had opened for Derek to slot perfectly in between.

Derek mouthed at Stiles through his boxers, sucking on the wet patch of pre-come before gradually peeling off his boxers and sending them to join his pants on the floor. His hard cock slapped up against his belly and Derek lowered his lips to the tip. _Holy shit_ , he was about to get a blowjob from Derek Hale.

He started by lightly kissing and licking down his length, then he came back up and in one swift movement took Stiles’ entire cock into his mouth. Stiles couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up, Derek’s fingers held him down, digging deliciously into his hips. He’d probably have finger shaped bruises in the morning.

Derek sucked hard as he came up, tongue working at the head, then he just sunk back down, taking the whole thing back down his throat. Now, Stiles may not have a terrifying monster of a dick, but it was still slightly larger than average, so that was some serious deep throating going on. The next time he went down, Derek swallowed around Stiles’ cock, throat constricting around him and Stiles wailed.

With a lewd wet popping sound Derek pulled off Stiles’ dick and pushed Stiles’ legs wider apart. He took one of his balls into his mouth, eliciting a loud moan from Stiles, rolling it around on his tongue and sucking it, until he let it go and swapped it for the other one.

Derek returned his attentions to Stiles’ throbbing cock, focusing solely on the head. While doing this he circled his index finger around Stiles’ puckered entrance, teasing at the rim before slipping just the very tip of his finger inside, drawing out a desperate gasp from Stiles.

“I’m a virgin.” Stiles blurted before he became too incoherent to form words anymore. Derek moved back up Stiles’ body, hand steadily jacking him off. “Don’t stop!” he cried, he’d meant to warn Derek, felt like it was something he should probably know, he did _not_ want him to stop. Ever.

“I just thought I should tell you.” He said sheepishly (well, as far as sheepish is possible when Derek Hale has one hand around your dick).

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I can’t remember a single one of my past sexual experiences, I’m just going off instinct. Doing what I want to do, what you want me to do.” He murmured, breath hot on Stiles’ ear. “Is this okay?” He asked, index finger circling Stiles’ hole again.

“Y-yes.” Stiles panted. “Lube, bedside table.”

“Have you ever taken anything before?” Derek asked, voice low, slipping the tip of his finger in and out provocatively.

“Just my own.”

“Good.” He rumbled, nipping Stiles’ ear lobe and kissing him messily before sliding back down Stiles’ body, grabbing the lube on his way and settling between his legs.

Derek hooked Stiles’ legs over his shoulders and Stiles’ sex addled brain had only just managed to compute what was about to happen when he felt the flat of Derek’s tongue press against his hole.

“Oh god.” Stiles mewled as the tip of Derek’s tongue pushed past his pink hole, coaxing the tight muscle into relaxing. He teased the rim, tugging on it a little bit from the inside and then pressing back in, forcing his tongue to go breach Stiles further. It wasn’t long before Derek was tongue fucking Stiles, gripping his hips tight as Stiles tried to thrust downwards in a vain attempt to get Derek deeper.

Stiles hadn’t even noticed Derek open the lube when there was a slick finger at his rim, next to Derek’s tongue (to be fair, he’d been pretty distracted by the tongue in his ass). Derek pressed his finger into Stiles and it slipped in easily, reaching deeper.

“Derek, please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for, but Derek withdrew his tongue and slipped in a second finger without resistance. He began scissoring his two fingers, working him open.

“A-another.” Stiles begged and Derek obliged. The third finger caused the good kind of burn and Stiles tried to fuck himself down on Derek’s fingers, whimpering desperately. Derek’s fingers stroked around inside him, searching, until they found that glorious little bundle of nerves.

“Oh god, Derek, fuck. Yess.” He moaned jerking uncontrollably. “Please, now.”

Derek drew out his fingers and ripped off his pants and boxer briefs revealing his fully hard, long, thick, uncut dick, Stiles licked his lips. Derek slicked himself up and lined up at Stiles stretched hole which was wet with spit and lube.

Stiles felt the blunt head pushing in agonizingly slowly. Derek was big, about the same length as Stiles, but significantly thicker, and Stiles definitely felt it as he pressed in. It felt like an age before he felt Derek bottom out, flush against his ass.

“Okay?” Derek asked sounding strained, clearly putting a lot of effort into keeping still.

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.” Stiles panted, still adjusting to the size of Derek.

“You feel so good. So perfect for me.” He lent down and kissed Stiles languidly while he waited, tongue dipping into his mouth, it made Stiles blush thinking about what he’d been doing with it just a little while ago.

“Derek? You can move now.” Stiles informed him, rolling his own hips encouragingly.

Derek started to move, steadily picking up the pace but still not going as fast as Stiles wanted. He wanted to be taken _hard_ , he wanted to feel it.

“Faster.” Stiles instructed, Derek quickly obliged, but Stiles still wanted him harder, faster. “Harder.” Stiles gasped. Derek grunted before stopping and changing their position minorly. Stiles was about to complain, but then Derek drew out so only the head remained before thrusting in brutally and _nailing_ Stiles' prostate. Stiles let out a stream of incoherent ‘yeses’ and ‘mores’ and dragged his nails down Derek’s back, making Derek release a deep growl and start fucking him faster.

“You’re perfect. Like you were made for this. Made for me. Just for me.” Derek growled into his ear. “Only me. Say it.”

“Only you. Just you.” Stiles called out between breaths.

“So good for me. Such a good boy.” And okay, slight praise kink appearing. “Going to make you mine. Mark you up. Make sure everyone knows your mine.”

“Yes! God yes.” He panted. Stiles had never imagined Derek to be so vocal during sex, and the things he was saying were causing pre-come to drip steadily from his aching cock.

It wasn’t long before Derek set a punishing pace, pounding into Stiles and filling the room with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Stiles’ half-formed words being moaned out.

He pushed Stiles’ legs back, practically bending him in half and managed to bury himself even deeper and hit his sweet spot on every thrust. Stiles felt himself hurtling towards the finish and pulled Derek into a sloppy kiss which ended with them just panting into each other’s’ mouth.

“Can you come like this? Without being touched?”

“I think so.” Stiles gasped, knowing he was close to the edge. Derek nosed at Stiles’ neck and he bared it on instinct. It made Derek growl possessively and bite down on his neck hard, but without breaking the skin, sucking ferociously against the sensitive skin there.

“Come for me. Come for me Stiles.” Derek commanded, whispering into his ear. Stiles cried out and exploded between them, covering them both in his come. His ass contracted around Derek’s cock and he managed three more thrusts before Stiles could feel his release pouring out into his ass.

“Good boy.” Derek murmured, in a post-orgasmic voice, Stiles couldn’t help the flare of renewed arousal it sent through him. They lay there for a little while before Stiles found his voice again.

“We need to clean up before this dries and becomes a horrible crusty mess.” Stiles indicated the come cooling on his stomach. But Derek just moved down and started licking it off, Stiles’ dick gave a valiant twitch, but there was no way he was getting hard again after that epic fucking for at least half an hour.

Derek slipped out of Stiles as he moved down, licking as he went. Stiles could feel Derek’s come starting to drip steadily out of his puffy hole, it felt weird. However, not as weird as the feeling of Derek’s fingers trying to push it back in again.

“What are you doing?” he asked (although he did get it, possessive werewolf wanted to keep his come inside Stiles for the whole world to smell.) That also sent a wave of lust coursing through him. Maybe one day they could get something to help keep it in… Derek didn’t respond, just looked mildly shy, not that it stopped him from what he was doing.

“You are one kinky bastard. And you’re going to kill me with sex.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Nope.” Stiles grinned and pulled him up for a deep kiss.

 

* * *

 

At about eleven, Stiles’ phone started churning out Cherry Bomb.

“Hey, Malia.”

“Hi Stiles, I’ve got the raven feathers.”

“Awesome, are you absolutely sure they’re from a raven.”

“Pretty positive as it was a raven I plucked them from.”

“Excellent. Can you drop them round Deatons? He’s going to look after everything, I really don’t think he trusts us enough.”

“No problem, see you later Stiles.

“Okay, bye.”

 

At half eleven his phone began playing Poker Face.

“Chris! Please say you have the Larkspurleaf Monkshood. ‘Cause otherwise I have no idea how we’re going to find it.”

“I don’t have any–”

“Shit.”

“–but I do know someone who does. They’re sending some down.”

“Other hunters are voluntarily helping a werewolf?”

“No, they think I plan on using it for other purposes.”

“Oh. Whatever, as long as we get it.”

“Exactly. I’ll leave it with Deaton when it arrives. Stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble normally finds me.” Stiles muttered.

 

During the day, Stiles decided to take Derek on a hunt for a talisman to link him to his past.

“I suppose there’s no point in asking you if you have any ideas?” He asked hopefully.

“Not really no. Although maybe something I was given by my parents?” Derek suggested as they wandered through the preserve, hand in hand, enjoying the fresh air.

“Hmm, that is a good idea. But I don’t know if anything really survived the fire. And if it did, where you’d keep it.” Stiles pointed out as Derek helped pull him up a rocky bank.

At that moment Thriller started ringing out from his phone.

“That’s Peter.” Even the dude phoning him gave him the heebie jeebies. “Wait, he may know where you would keep that stuff.”

“Stiles.” He could practically hear his leer. “I was just going to update you. I have located the Siren and it shouldn’t be a problem to get what you need.”

“Useful, but gross. Do you happen to know where Derek might have kept anything that survived the fire?”

“Yes. It would probably be in the family vault.” He stated nonchalantly, like every family had one.

“The vault?!”

“Yes, the Hale family vault. It’s under the school. The Beacon Hills High sign moves.”

“Why the fuck did you build a vault under the school?”

“On the contrary, the vault was there first. I can email you the instructions to open it now. It’s not difficult.”

“Right, okay, thanks Peter. Take the spit to Deaton once you’ve got it.” Stiles finished, really trying not to think about it too hard.

“Of course.” Peter hung up and Stiles crammed his phone back into his pocket.

“So we need to head to the school?” Derek half asked half stated.

“Yeah. I think it’s in that direction.” Stiles said pointing aimlessly to the left, Derek took his hand and moved it so it was pointing in the opposite direction.

“That way.”

“Oh.”

“Your sense of direction is shocking.”

“Good thing you keep me around for other things then.” Stiles said waggling his eyebrows, Derek snorted and started walking in the correct direction, pulling Stiles along with him.

By the time they reached the school Peter’s email had come through on his phone and they were able to get into the vault.

“This is so weird.” Stiles whined as the Beacon Hills High sign moved to reveal a stone staircase. They went down a pretty large vault, so naturally Stiles started snooping around.

“What the hell is that!” Stiles squeaked pointing at an ominously colored jar. He then picked up what looked like a fossil.

“Stiles. Don’t touch anything.”

“What? Why? It’s not like you know what any of it is.”

“Yet I get the feeling that everything in here is quite precious.” Stiles put it down and Derek wandered over to a different shelf and lifted down a shoebox marked Derek.

He opened up the box which was filled with little trinkets. Derek’s old lacrosse jersey, scorched around the edges, a basketball trophy for young player of the year, a couple of CD’s, a partially charred journal, a few half burnt photos of Derek and friends and one framed one which had survived quite well of the whole family.

What caught Stiles’ eye was a thick old locket on a long chain, it had T.H. engraved on the front. Stiles picked it up and opened it carefully, it had seven slots but only held six photos; a grown man Stiles assumed was Derek’s father, a teenage Laura and Derek, a preteen Cora and a very young Jessica and Rufus. He passed it silently to Derek and let him look through it.

“My dad?” Stiles nodded. “My sisters and little brother?” He nodded again sadly.

“It’s different, seeing them. Makes it more real.” Derek whispered, delicately running the pad of his finger over the pictures of Jessica and Rufus. “Where is my mom?” Stiles turned the locket over softly and indicated to the initials engraved there.

“Talia Hale. This was hers.”

“I think this will work as a talisman.” Derek said quietly, slipping it around his neck and tucking it into his shirt. He placed the shoebox delicately back on the shelf and led the way out of the vault, following the instructions to close it back up.

Once it was closed again Derek bundled Stiles up in his arms, inhaling deeply, comforting himself. Stiles just ran his hand through his hair and held him until he didn’t need it anymore.

That night Derek was gentle with him, fucking him slow and deep, holding him close like he was worried he might disappear, they fell asleep wrapped around each other.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Stiles woke up and climbed out of bed leaving Derek to lie in. Derek it seemed had other morning activities in mind.

He was halfway through his shower when the door opened and Derek walked in, shucked his clothes and climbed straight into the shower with him without so much as a ‘good morning’.

“Um, hi?” Stiles said timidly, feeling ridiculously self-conscious about the way Derek was dragging his eyes up his wet naked body. He was blushing furiously and went to cover himself; he thought he was being subtle, but apparently not as Derek batted his hands away and crowded him into the corner of the shower, licking into his mouth and running his hands all over.

Stiles gave as good as he got, returning the kiss with just as much enthusiasm (who _wouldn’t_ be enthusiastic about Derek Hale (!) kissing them?!). Derek wedged his thigh between Stiles’ legs and moved his hand to Stiles dick. Stiles, however, had different plans from a messy but awesome hand job.

He managed to turn them, leaving Derek with his back against the wall and sunk to his knees. Stiles swallowed looking at the dick before him, he’d never done this before, but he figured at least it was the same as his. Well, minus the foreskin, Stiles did not have one of those. He’d always been curious though.

Stiles gripped Derek’s cock lightly and dragged the foreskin up and over the head, he then lent forward and started licking at the head, swirling his tongue around the inside of his foreskin, slipping it under as far as it would go.

“Fuck, Stiles.” Derek groaned desperately trying to stop his hips from bucking forwards.

“I’ve always wondered. What it feels like.” Stiles stated between sucks and licks.

“Feels so good. Your fucking mouth Stiles. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he gasped, one hand threading through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles stopped focusing exclusively on the head and started to take Derek into his mouth, bit by bit. He could only manage about half of Derek’s length before his gag reflex kicked in and he had to back off a little.

He covered what he couldn’t fit in his mouth with his hand and started sucking Derek with a steady rhythm. Derek’s hips were stuttering in aborted little jerks and his hand was flexing in Stiles’ hair until he accidently pulled harder than intended. It sent a spark shooting through Stiles and he moaned around Derek’s cock. He looked up at Derek through his lashes and Derek gave another experimental tug on Stiles’ hair.

“More.” Stiles pulled off and practically begged him. So Derek gripped his hair tighter, teetering just on the right side of painful and started guiding Stiles head over his cock. As his grip tightened Stiles whined around him and had to get a hand on himself, frantically jerking himself as Derek moved his head, judging it perfectly, never pushing in too far.

Stiles hummed around Derek in pleasure and nudged his hips forward, encouraging him to thrust into the wet heat of his mouth. Derek started thrusting shallowly into Stiles pliant mouth as Stiles sucked hard and flicked his tongue around the head.

“You’re perfect like this. Made for it, for me. Such a greedy little mouth.” Derek rambled, voice thick and possessive, sending lust surging through him. Stiles had to grasp the base of his own cock hard to stop himself from coming there and then.

Derek groaned as Stiles moved his hand to tug at Derek’s balls, rolling them around in his hand and squeezing fractionally. He ran a finger over Derek’s prenium and he jerked uncontrollably, gasping for air.

Stiles then slipped a finger further back and ran it over his dry hole, circling around it, barely pressing in at all. Derek made a choked off sound, thrusts becoming more erratic as he got closer. He tugged at Stiles’ hair, warning him and trying to move him off. But instead Stiles took Derek as deep as he could just as the very tip of his finger pressed into his tight ass.

Derek practically growled as he came, filling Stiles’ mouth. Stiles swallowed as much as he could before he had to pull off, Derek was still coming (seriously was excessive come a werewolf thing?) so he ended up with a couple of stripes across his face.

Derek sagged into the wall only for a moment before he hauled Stiles up and kissed him raw, then he ran his fingers through the come left on Stiles’ face and pressed them into his mouth. Stiles wrapped his lips around Derek’s offered fingers and sucked on them just as enthusiastically, running his tongue in between the two fingers and swirling around the top.

Derek groaned, slipped his free hand down the cleft of Stiles’ ass and started playing with his asshole. Stiles whimpered around the fingers in his mouth and began rutting shamelessly up into Derek’s hip.

“Such a good boy.” Derek murmured directly into his ear, the whole thing startling another moan out of Stiles. He was so close. “Are you going to come for me Stiles? Be my good little boy?” Stiles cried out and came over Derek’s hip and stomach, slumping against him immediately, Derek practically having to hold him up. He decided to analyze his apparent praise kink later.

When Stiles regained control of his limbs they finally finished showering, sharing lazy kisses and soft caresses.

“You know.” Stiles smirked over his breakfast. “I’m not entirely convinced showering together is faster.” In response to Derek’s justification for climbing in with him earlier being completely economical (not that it needed justifying as Stiles figured coming his brains out was reason enough to shower together. Not to mention a much faster clean up.)

“Do you want me to never do it again?” Derek teased.

“Nope! Absolutely not. In fact I want you to never not do it again.” It was Derek’s turn to smirk at Stiles and he planted an affectionate kiss on his nose before scooping up Stiles’ empty bowl and dropping it in the sink. Stiles had an abstract moment of realizing how domestic it looked and could suddenly see ten years into their future. It made him sad, he just couldn’t believe he was going to get that lucky, couldn’t quite believe that Derek was going to even like him, let alone want him after all of this.

“So, do we have a plan for the day?” Derek asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I thought we would go see Melissa, like you wanted to. Talk to her about the spell and stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s her day off today.”

“Sounds great.” Derek smiled.

 

Stiles called Melissa to check she was in and not two hours later they were ringing the door bell,

“Stiles.” Melissa sounded surprised. “I kind of expected you to either climb through a window or let yourself in with your key. Which you had made. Without my permission.”

“Sorry about that.” Stiles responded sheepishly. “But you can’t claim it hasn’t come in handy.” He defended, Melissa shook her head but her expression was fond.

“Derek, I’m Melissa, Scott’s mom, which I’m sure you’ve worked out. Come on in.” She welcomed, leaving the door open and heading back into the house. “What is it you needed?”

“Well, for the ritual spell thing that we need to do to get Derek’s memory back we need the help of a healer. And we were hoping it would be you.” Stiles explained.

“Do you really need to ask?” She smiled.

“No, but it is polite.” Stiles pointed out, Melissa smiled fondly at him again, he’d basically been her honorary son for years now. She was inescapably pack mom. He didn’t know what they’d do without her. She was a rock.

“And I was hoping to be able to talk to you for a bit. Get to know you a little beforehand.”

“Sure no problem.” She said, looking at Derek with this impossibly soft expression; like he was a lost puppy she’d like to adopt. “Can I ask what I’m actually expected to do during the spell?”

“You can ask, but I don’t know the answer. Deaton was nice and vague as per.”

“Right, well, I’m sure it will be fine.” She reasoned, looking like she at least half believed it.

They parked themselves in the living room for the afternoon, Derek and Melissa talking about everything and nothing, seeming to rather enjoy each other’s company. It made Stiles’ absurdly happy, he was pretty sure Derek needed a mom sometimes; and although Melissa would never replace the real thing, she’d always been the next best thing.

 

* * *

 

Witches were obviously a rare thing to have in a pack, as none of the ones Scott contacted had any either, but they did say they would ask around. The Hale name seemed to carry a lot of weight in the werewolf community and coupled with the support of a true alpha, most were willing to help. If anything it just furthered Stiles’ theory that Talia had been a complete badass.

“I’ve no idea how we’re going to get the witches blood.” Stiles groaned, hanging up the phone, head smacking dramatically against the table, narrowly missing his dinner.

“You’ll think of something.” Derek reassured, running his hand through Stiles’ hair. Stiles didn’t think he was nearly worried enough about this, because he truly did not have a clue how to get the witches blood. He shoveled another too large mouthful in and was attempting to chew it as Born To Be Wild started playing.

“’lo?” Stiles managed around his food.

“Who do you love?” Cora asked. “Except my brother of course.” She snarked and Stiles blushed, glad she couldn’t see, the mocking would be never ending. He tried not to think about the fact that Derek definitely heard that though.

“Um, you?” he guessed.

“Yep.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Well. One of the packs just outside of the city that we’re allied with, was in fact having some trouble with a Witch fucking things up in their territory. So, alpha Cortez let me offer our pack’s help, as long as they help me collect some of its blood.”

“OH my god you absolute queen!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s already in the mail to you, special delivery.”

“I actually do love you.”

“Oh and just in case I have three spare vials in case the first one gets lost in the mail.”

“Marry me, right now.”

“No. Derek would kill me. Well, he’d try, frankly I quite like my chances. Anyway, I have places to be. Keep me updated.”

“Bye Cora.”

 

Sure enough a couple of days later the vial of blood arrived, special delivery as promised. Stiles shot off a text to Cora letting her know that it arrived.

                Don’t drop it. CH

                _Why does no one trust me?!_

I’d trust you with my life. Not with anything fragile.

                _…fair enough_

So they were walking into the vets to drop off the blood for safe keeping. After all, it wouldn’t be at all out of character for Stiles to break it. Seriously, why are important vials made of glass? They should be rubber or something.

“Stiles, Derek.” Deaton acknowledged as they walked in, opening the counter for them.

“Sup. We’ve got the witches blood. Thought you could keep it with the raven feathers and special wolfsbane. Oh, and you did have the wendigo tooth right?”

“Don’t you think I may have informed you if I didn’t have it?”

“Well, yeah, but I’d rather check and be called a moron than not.” Deaton just took the vial and placed it in a lock box with the other items.

“Peter’s just arrived.” Derek announced, bristling slightly and stepping closer to Stiles – which basically meant on top of him as he’d been standing close anyway.

“Ah, hello everyone. My my Stiles, you are smelling...marked.” Peter smirked raking his eyes up and down. Stiles was fairly sure he was just doing it to wind Derek up, he’d never been quite this creepy before and Stiles was sure he would’ve noticed.

“What do you want?” Derek almost snarled, pulling Stiles into him.

“Now, now Derek. No need for that. Besides, I’m here to help.” He produced a pretty large jar of spit from his pocket.

“That is a disturbing amount of saliva. I don’t even want to know how you got that.” Stiles grimaced.

“Thank you Peter. Although I don’t think the quantity was quite necessary.” Deaton commented, taking the jar, seeming slightly reluctant to have to touch it.

“I was just making sure. It is my nephew we are talking about.” He replied greasily. Stiles just rolled his eyes and started making for the exit, Derek in tow.

“Stiles, make sure you’re here at nine o’clock sharp. You mustn’t be late.”

“Okay, sure thing. See you then.”

“Bye Stiles.” Peter’s creepy voice followed them out.

“I really don’t like him.” Derek grumbled.

“Join the club.”

“Why do we keep him around?”

“Well, I think it’s a tie between he’s one of your only two surviving relatives, and we just keep not getting round to getting rid of him. And, I suppose he is actually quite useful, he unfortunately knows a lot of stuff that we don’t. I begrudgingly admit that we do kinda need him.”

“I still don’t like it.” He grumped, Stiles just laughed and kissed him quickly – because at the moment, he was allowed to do that.

 

* * *

 

As they no longer needed to do anything in particular, Stiles felt at a bit of a loose end, unsure what to do.

What they ended up doing was alternating between playing videogames, watching marvel films and having spectacular sex. Stiles had gone from have absolutely no sexual experience whatsoever to fucking over/on/against every flat surface in his house in a _very_ short space of time.

It was Thursday evening, just four days before the spell was going to be done, Stiles thought the last few days had probably been some of the best of his life, and he worried he was never going to have them again.

“”Where are we going?” Stiles asked as Derek drove them into town.

“Last time we were in town I saw somewhere I’d like to go.”

“At eight o’clock at night?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Stiles shrugged, not thinking too much of it.

They pulled up outside one of the most expensive restaurants in town, Stiles was too busy sitting in the car a little confused until Derek opened his car door and offered his hand. Derek held his hand as they walked up to the maîtred’.

“I have a reservation for two. Under Hale.”

“Of course, right this way sir.” The maîtred’ replied leading them through the restaurant and into an secluded, intimate little table near the back, with a beautiful view of the preserve.

“So, what’s going on?” Stiles asked, looking through the menu (he was pretty sure he couldn’t even afford the starters).

“I’m taking you on a date, a proper one.” Derek explained, Stiles blushed feeling all warm and fuzzy and like he had acrobatic butterflies in his stomach. “I believe the phrase is wining and dining. Only without the wine, because you’re not old enough.”

“I’m not technically old enough for some of the other activities we’ve been engaging in either.” Stiles’ tone was mockingly reprimanding, but he waggled his eyebrows.

“Would you like me to stop?” Derek pseudo-threatened in return.

“Nope.” Stiles replied with a big smile, popping the p.

“Good.” Derek said, leaning across the table and pecking Stiles on the nose.

“This place is far too good for me. I don’t think I can afford anything on the menu.” Stiles admitted after looking through it again.

“Nothing is too good for you. And it’s a good thing I’m paying then.” Derek said tenderly, but leaving no room for an argument, Stiles looked up. “I said it would be a proper date remember.” Stiles looked back down at his menu, feeling ridiculous for suddenly coming over shy. Derek just huffed out a small, affectionate laugh.

Derek ordered them a posh sounding starter and himself the steak for the main, and Stiles ordered the lamb.

“How would you like your steak?” the waiter asked politely.

“Rare.” Derek answered, the waiter nodded and left.

“You know. I could make a joke about typical werewolf behavior right now. But I don’t want to lower the tone of the evening.” Stiles grinned.

“I like it when you make jokes.” Stiles was about to point out that with his memories he was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel the same, but then Derek was gently tracing patterns and caressing his hand, so he (understandably) got distracted.

The starter was almost as delicious as the way Derek kissed off the bit he managed to get on his cheek (how it got up there he’d never know).

The mains came and they talked and flirted and joked and smiled. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever been this comfortable with another person before. They shared a dessert, Stiles got whipped cream on his cheek (only semi-accidently this time), Derek reached up and wiped it off with his thumb before slipping it into Stiles’ mouth. Derek’s eyes darkened and Stiles fought a flare of lust, stopping only because of how awkward it would be to get a boner in a posh restaurant. Not a story he needed reaching his dad.

They took their time getting the bill, both of them reluctant for the evening to end. Derek paid without letting Stiles even look at the price.

“It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t put a price on you, you’re priceless.”

“That. Was so cheesy. I can’t believe you just said that.” He teased.

“Yeah, well. I meant it.” Derek grumbled, blushing ever so slightly.

They walked slowly, hand in hand back out to the Camaro.

“Did you have a nice time?” Derek asked, apparently feeling a tad unsure – which Stiles thought was weird because he had literally never had a better time in his life and it had just confirmed that he was hopelessly falling in love with him. It made him feel a bit hopeless, a bit sad. He guessed that was what Derek could sense, what had made him ask.

“The best.” He replied sincerely. Derek swept him up in a hard kiss and long embrace, cradling Stiles’ head in his hands.

“Me too.” He murmured back softly, sounding so open and genuine. As he kept Stiles wrapped up in the embrace a bit longer, Stiles tried not to cry. It was almost perfect, and it was almost over.

That night Stiles lay awake feeling a sleeping Derek’s chest rise and fall steadily against his back as he breathed deep and heavy behind him.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered shakily into the dark. “And when you leave me on Monday. I think I’m going to break.”

 

* * *

 

The next few days passed in the same way, with Derek romancing Stiles; stealing his heart and breaking it at the same time. They took goofy photos in one of those booths and kept a strip each. He was happy, so happy. But it was clouded by the fact that he simply couldn’t believe he was going to be allowed to keep it, keep him.

They didn’t talk about Monday. Almost ignored it. Just immersed themselves in each other. Derek still believed he would love Stiles regardless, but he had clearly worked out that his memories may not be too pleasant to get back.

It crept up on them, until suddenly it was quarter to nine and they were pulling up outside the vets in the Camaro. They just sat in the car in silence for a little while.

“We should go inside.” Derek said eventually. Stiles nodded slowly, looking off into the distance. Derek squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek, giving him the courage he apparently needed to get out of the car. He felt like a horrible person. He should want Derek to get his memories back, and he did. But it had gotten so complicated.

What he wanted was for Derek to feel the same way about him with his memories. It was hard to believe it would ever be more than wishful thinking.

As they walked in Derek let go of his hand only to hold onto the hem of his shirt, practically anchoring Stiles against his chest. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure who he was comforting, he figured it was probably them both.

The pack was already there, Lydia was just extracting a strand of hair to give to Deaton.

“Do you have a talisman?” Deaton asked.

“Yes,” answered, lifting the locket from under his shirt.

“Excellent. When we add Lydia’s hair the spell will start. Everyone except Melissa, Derek and myself must leave the room. I will call you when we’re done. It shouldn’t take long. Shall we begin?”

“Wait.” Derek said abruptly. “I need to talk to Stiles. Alone.” He continued, sounding distressed. Deaton looking torn between being annoyed and understanding. He opened the door into another room, ushering them inside. “This room is completely made from mountain ash. They won’t be able to hear you. But you can’t take too long.” He shut the door behind himself.

“What is it?” Stiles asked softly.

“I-, maybe I don’t want them back.” He blurted.

“What?” Stiles replied confused.

“I mean, I literally wished them away. Who’s to say that wasn’t deliberate? I don’t want to go back to some sad, lonely, hostile, self-alienating person who uses anger as an anchor and doesn’t play Mario kart and whose family is dead and who doesn’t have you.” He paused for breath. “I just want to stay with you.” He finished desperately. Stiles didn’t know what to say or what to feel.

“We could just leave.” Derek whispered. Stiles leant forward and buried himself in the nape of Derek’s neck, as Derek had done to him so often in the past few weeks. He breathed in deeply. It was grounding, even to his pathetic human nose.

“I want to say yes. I want to just run away with you. But that’s only because I’m scared. I’m scared that you aren’t going to want me or will tell yourself that you’re better off without me. But we’re not, we’re so much better together. I’m terrified that you’ll hate me, for taking advantage of your state. I’m scared and terrified because it will break me.

“But I am a lot of things, and a coward is not one of them. I won’t let you be less of yourself just because I’m scared. I love you, all of you. Baggage and all. But you’re only part of you right now. And I need all of you. I need you to be all of you again, or it’ll be my fault and eventually I’ll hate myself for it.”

“Okay.” Derek conceded sadly, holding onto Stiles tightly.

“Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If the only thing holding you back is some stupid belief that I’m better off without you. Promise me you won’t listen to it.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t think I can survive having you and loosing you.” They held onto each other a little longer before forcing themselves to part and going back into the other room.

Derek kissed Stiles hard before sitting himself on the metal table in the centre of the room, giving his hand one last squeeze. Deaton came over with Melissa.

“I should warn you.” He said to Stiles as he headed for the door. “There is a chance that Derek will forget this time without his memories.”

“What?” Stiles asked and looked around to see Derek’s equally panicked face. It didn’t matter, he told himself, Derek still needed to get his memories back. He couldn’t be that selfish.

“It’s okay.” He said comfortingly to Derek. “It’ll be okay.” He wished he believed it.

“Don’t let me forget.” He whimpered pleadingly.

“I won’t.” he wished it worked like that.

As the door snicked shut behind him the pack came over, presumably to comfort him. Stiles just headed for a chair on the far side of the room. They got the message, they let him be. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them.

Waiting.

 

* * *

 

Derek sat up slowly, on the metal table, feeling extremely groggy. He was at Deaton’s. How the hell did he get here?

“Derek?” That was Deaton’s voice, he looked around, eyes still blurry, trying to focus. Was that Melissa McCall? What was she doing here? As his ears stopped ringing so much he could faintly hear the pack in the waiting room.

“What the hell happened?” He asked, voice croaky.

“Derek, this is very important. What is the last thing you remember?” Deaton asked all serious.

“I was sitting on a random bench on the sidewalk, I think it was about 4am.” He answered, Melissa looked worried and glanced at the door. Derek didn’t understand what was going on.

“That was almost four weeks ago.” Deaton informed him.

“What? How is that possible! What happened!”

“You managed to wish your memories away, a genie must’ve been close by when you made an offhand comment.”

“There was only one other person anywhere near me and she was completely normal. I would’ve known if she was a threat.” Derek protested, he wouldn’t have been that careless.

“On the contrary, genies do not register as anything but normal. And they are ordinarily perfectly harmless. However, once they hear the words ‘I wish’ – even just as a throwaway remark – they are helpless to do anything but grant it.”

Derek scrubbed his hands over his face, how could he have let this happen. Four weeks! How had he survived without any memories for four weeks!

He noticed something different about his scent, something had been added, mixed into it. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. The smell itself was one of the most comforting things he’d ever experienced, like he was being wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety, calming him even now. But the fact that he didn’t know where it came from was disconcerting.

“How did I even survive four weeks without my memory?” Derek asked.

“Stiles found you standing in his drive. He, looked after you.” Melissa looked slightly sad, there was something she wasn’t telling him. He had a feeling it was important. Of course Stiles had looked after him, that’s what beautiful, selfless people did when someone needed help.

“Why is the whole pack outside?”

“They were all worried about you. Wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Melissa answered, it threw Derek. He hadn’t expected so much kindness from them, not after how much he’d managed to screw them all up.

“They probably want to come in, check for themselves.” Derek nodded, feeling a bit like he was in a daze, this many people hadn’t been worried about him since his family was alive.

They all filtered slowly into the room, Derek noticed the expression on the ones with supernatural hearing, it was like the one Melissa had been wearing. There was something that had them worried, presumably about something they overheard. What was he missing?

Stiles walked into the room last. The smell hit him like a freight train. He recognised his own scent for what it was, _them._ He could smell himself all over Stiles, like he was his. He couldn’t help the want that pulsed through him, he tried to force it back down. Oh god, he couldn’t have taken advantage of him like that. Smelt the attraction and taken exactly what he wanted from a seventeen year old boy. Seventeen.

Derek whipped around to look at Stiles in alarm, immediately registering the dark hickeys travelling up his throat. He choked out a breath when he locked eyes with Stiles. Panicking internally. How could he have done this to him?

Stiles only held his gaze for a split second before clocking his expression tearing his eyes away. Derek was slammed by a wall of hopeless misery, even despair as Stiles turned and fled the building. What had he done to cause Stiles so much misery? Surely he wouldn’t have hurt him, forced him. He couldn’t have done that to Stiles. Not Stiles.

“Stiles!” He shouted, jumping down off the table to chase him, the muscles in his legs weren’t working properly yet and he crumpled, Deaton catching him under the arms to support him.

“Stiles! Wait! Please!” he yelled desperately. He needed to apologise for whatever it was he’d done. He needed to make it right. He doubted he would be able to cope without Stiles. Even the tiny fraction of him he’d allowed himself before he’d managed to lose his memories.

Stiles didn’t stop, he could hear him crying, Derek felt like there was a knife in his heart. He started thrashing, fighting against Deaton, but his legs still wouldn’t work, wouldn’t take him where he wanted to go.

After a little while he sagged in Deaton’s arms, crumpling to the floor. He looked at Scott pleadingly, Scott seemed to understand, and he nodded and left, going to find his friend, make sure he was okay.

Derek didn’t regain feeling in his legs for another couple of hours. Malia and Isaac had stayed with him. He felt drained, despondent.

He tried to get them to tell him what had happened between him and Stiles. He wanted them to tell him it was okay, he hadn’t done anything, it was all just a big mistake. Reassure him that he wasn’t a terrible person. But then again, he wasn’t a person at all. Take away his past and why would he act like anything other than an animal.

They just told him it wasn’t their place, that he should talk to Stiles.

He went out to his car when he felt he was safe to drive. It smelt like Stiles. So did his jacket on the back seat. He _missed_ him, even though he couldn’t remember having him.

He dialled Stiles’ number, he didn’t pick up. Stiles always had his phone. He called again and again and again. He sent a text instead, hoping he would at least read it.

                Stiles, please, we need to talk. DH

He rang Scott instead, for some reason it made him think of the song California Girls. He didn’t know why.

“Scott. Please tell me he’s okay. Where is he?”

“I, I don’t know man. I’m not entirely sure what’s happening. He won’t talk to me. He’s never done that before. He’s in his room, but I think we should give him a bit of space. Just for a couple of days.”

“Scott you have to tell me what happened.”

“I think you and Stiles need to talk about that. Not only is it not my place, but I don’t know how far it went. It’s not liked we discussed it as a pack. I mean, we realised something was going on, thought it was about time really, but neither of you really talked to any of us about it, didn’t need to really. I don’t want to give you the wrong information.”

Derek hung up. He needed to check Stiles was okay. Even if Scott suggested he shouldn’t go for a few days, he needed to at least visit the house. Make sure he was okay. Like he did most nights anyway.

Scott didn’t hate him. And if he’d hurt Stiles, Scott would definitely hate him. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Melissa had said Stiles was looking after him. Maybe that was why they smelt so much like each other, simply because they’d been living together. Four weeks was a long time after all. And he’d not lived in close quarters like that with someone who wasn’t family ever before.

Maybe that was all the scent was. Simply mingled from living together, he tried desperately to convince himself.

He parked a few blocks away and waited in the darkness listening for Stiles. When he heard Stiles go downstairs he quickly scaled the building and opened the window.

It was only open a crack when it hit him, like running into a brick wall. The smell of them both was heavy in the air, thick with sex. He stopped breathing in. He felt his claws extend as lust and want punched through him. He wanted to stay in this room forever, stay with Stiles forever.

Instead he ran.

How could he have done this? He _liked_ Stiles, he wanted him. Had done for a long time. It only made the guilt worse. To have taken advantage of the one person he liked, the one he wanted. He’d ruined any distant hope he’d ever had.

 

He returned to the loft. He’d give Stiles space like Scott had suggested, maybe then he’d be able to salvage something, anything. At least he’d be able to apologise.

 

* * *

 

A couple of days later Scott organised a pack night/meeting, presumably to try and help return to normal.

Stiles didn’t come.

He rescheduled it for the next night.

Stiles didn’t come that evening either.

Everyone left early when it was clear Stiles wasn’t coming. It had only been three days but Derek felt like he was drowning without Stiles. Stiles was avoiding him, that much was clear. Derek assumed his withdrawal from him was because of the way he took advantage of him. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to salvage it. Salvage anything. It was breaking him.

That night he climbed through Stiles’ window when he was sure he was asleep, careful not to wake him. Because even though he hates himself for it, knowing that he had Stiles but never will again was killing him. He just wanted one more smell of that perfect, comforting scent of them both together.

Derek paused in the room, captivated by Stiles. He needed the chance to look freely. Just this once. He noticed his clothes strewn around the room, he noticed it was his own shirt stiles was sleeping him. It tugged on his heart.

He breathed in deeply through his nose, savouring the smell, drinking it in.

A vague thought comes to him. He slept on the left side of the bed. Then, Stiles eats Lucky Charms for breakfast almost every day. Next was that Stiles’ jeep was his mothers. He starts to remember everything gradually, then it all comes crashing over him. Every wonderful moment of it, of them.

He was in love with Stiles. Stiles had fallen in love with him. But Derek was worried, that was him but not all of him. He worried Stiles wouldn’t want him with all the broodiness and anger and guilt piled on top. And it didn’t change that he had still taken advantage of a minor. He remembered pushing for it. He remembers Stiles trying to stop him.

He was panicking, torn between leaving and staying, when Stiles started whimpering in his sleep, then struggling, crying out, and thrashing around.

Derek didn’t even need to think, just moved on instinct. Automatically slotting himself in behind Stiles and pulling him against his chest. Soothing him, running his fingers through his hair and softly telling him it would be alright.

Stiles relaxed almost immediately, starting to drift back off without even really waking up. But then he jolted awake, sitting bolt upright and staring at Derek. He tangled his hands in Derek shirt and buried his head into his chest. Derek wrapped him back up in his arms, helpless to stop himself.

Derek could feel wet tears through his shirt even though Stiles wasn’t making a sound, just clinging on to him and shaking slightly.

“Derek I’m so sorry. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, I knew you wouldn’t have wanted me really, I know you must hate me, but I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. Please, I’m so sorry I’m just really fucking sad that you don’t–”

“What are you talking about?” Derek cut him off, holding Stiles tight. “I took advantage of you.” He admitted, ashamed of himself.

“What? Of course you didn’t.”

“You’re seventeen and perfect Stiles, what a hardship that must’ve been for me, I should’ve known better. I’m no better than Kate.” Stiles clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Never say that. You are nothing like Kate.” He said ferociously.

“You were trying to stop it.”

“Only because I thought you’d hate me. I wanted it, so much.” He whispered.

“I could never hate you.”

“Wait. You remember? At the clinic you looked so confused and then you just looked alarmed.” Stiles asked looking up at Derek.

“I didn’t remember. But then I came in here, I just needed to see you again, I couldn’t help myself. I just, I needed you. And I could smell us everywhere and it just started coming back to me.” He looked into Stiles’ eyes, they were so big and bright, sparking with hope. “You didn’t let me forget.”

They sat there for a moment, seeming to get lost in each other’s eyes. Stiles had beautiful eyes. He wanted to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, wasn’t sure if he deserved to be allowed.

Stiles took the dilemma away from him by leaning up and kissing Derek gently. Derek was too stunned to respond, it was everything he’d ever wanted being given to him, it couldn’t be possible. Stiles just held his lips against Derek’s, waiting for him to kiss him back.

But he took too long to get his head together, to realize this was real and kiss Stiles back. Just as he was about to, Stiles pulled away and sighed, emanating sadness, he spoke before Derek got a chance to react.

“It’s okay, I understand”

“Understand what?” Derek asked confused, how had he managed to fuck it up again so quickly?!

“That you would never really want me. I’m sorry for what I did, but please, I need you to go.” Stiles’ voice was breaking, he was about to cry. He’d thought Derek not responding to the kiss had meant he didn’t want it.

“What? No-” He started but Stiles was locking himself in the bathroom. He didn’t want Derek to see him cry.

Derek desperately wanted to stay, explain, kiss him back, anything.

But Stiles is crying and doesn’t want Derek to see. He’s literally hiding from him. Doesn’t want to been seen as anything other than strong. So Derek slips out the window quietly, giving Stiles the space he desperately wants (even if it is only because of a miscommunication).

Now would be the wrong time. Besides, Derek thought, he was having an idea. Maybe he was going to be allowed to be happy, if he would just let himself.

With renewed optimism that he hadn’t had since his family, Derek headed off into the night to find Scott. He had a plan. For the first time in a very long time, he believed it was going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

With the help of the pack getting up in the small hours to help him prepare, Derek was ready. The main problem, as far as he could see, (apart from his own huge issues in general) was the fact that for some reason Stiles didn’t believe that Derek could possibly want him. Derek planned to change that.

He was outside the Stilinski residence, just about to leave Scott there and head to where he needed to be, when the Sheriff pulled up back from shift in his cruiser. He saw Scott and Derek and marched straight over. He stopped in front of Derek and smacked him upside the head.

“You better be fixing this.” He commanded, Derek nodded frantically. The Sheriff glared at him a little before marching off into his house.

“Okay. I’m going to go. Thank you for doing this Scott.”

“No problem man.” He smiled.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was still in his pyjamas when the doorbell went, he knew it was Scott because of the little jingle he made it play by pressing it way too many times.

“Scotty. What is it man?” He asked, trying to sound happy despite everything. He’s had a lot of practice at smiling no matter what he's really feeling.

“You need to get dressed.” Scott grabbed his hand and unceremoniously dragged him upstairs and threw clothes at him.

“Dude! What’s going on?” Stiles asked, pulling on the clothes Scott had thrown at him as fast as he could.

“I need your help.” Scott answered, pulling Stiles back down stairs and outside and climbing into the passenger side of the jeep.

“For what?”

“Derek’s gone missing. We can’t find him anywhere.” Stiles felt guilt crashing down on him.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. I need you to help me look.”

“Okay.” Stiles agreed quickly, starting up the jeep, he couldn’t bear the thought that something had happened to him. “Where first?”

“The loft.”

“Haven’t you checked there already?”

“Well yeah, but he might have come back.”

“Fine.” Stiles conceded, tearing off down the street.

When they got to the loft there was no one in, but Stiles could hear familiar music coming from the TV. Derek had left the Wii on, he’d been playing Mario Kart. It made Stiles smile.

“Shall we try the old Hale house next?” Scott suggested, Stiles nodded.

Derek wasn’t at the burnt out ruin of the Hale house, but there was a notice. It read ‘construction starting here next week to restore the property. Est. project time; 4 months’ and held the logo of one of Beacon Hills’ smaller construction companies. It made Stiles happy, it felt like Derek was letting go of some of the guilt.

“What about Deaton’s?” Was Scott’s next idea, so Stiles drove them there next.

They walked into the waiting room, Scott told him to wait there. Stiles couldn’t help but remember the time he and Derek had been lying on the floor, just laughing and being stupid, he smiled at the memory, even though it hurt.

Scott reappeared from the back shaking his head.

“I don’t know where to go next. Where did you guys go when you were wandering around town trying to jog his memory?”

“Why does it matter?” Stiles asked, getting suspicious. Scott did his best to look innocent, Stiles knew something else was going on.

“Well he might be there, places that meant a lot to him.”

“Scott, look, I don't want to drive around all the places me and Derek went. I just, I can’t.” Luckily Stiles didn’t think he had any more tears to cry after last night, and the past few days in general.

“Please Stiles, we’ve got to find him.” Scott fixed him with those big puppy dog eyes and Stiles sighed, unable to refuse him.

So they drove to the movie theatre and the diner and the posh restaurant. They even snuck into the school pool. Although Stiles couldn’t fathom why Derek would be there. It reminded him of Derek, reminded him of falling in love with Derek.

“Scott. Can we stop, please? I can’t anymore.”

“Just one more place. Last one I promise.” Stiles didn’t understand his motivation. It’s not like it was a case of Stiles needing a push to go and win Derek back. Derek didn’t want him, that had been clear the other night. So why was Scott doing this? He didn’t understand.

He signed tiredly and drove them into the preserve, going to the place he and Derek had dried off after their impromptu swim.

He wandered into the opening and something caught his eye, glinting in the sun on top of a large rock. He walked over to find that it was the locket. Derek wouldn’t leave this behind, Stiles was sure of it.

He opened it up and found that the last empty slot had been filled. It was a picture of him. Well, him and Derek. One of the ones from the booth, they were kissing. It was a good photo.

Stiles was confused, he looked around to find Scott but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. A moment later he heard the sound of a throat being cleared, he looked up to find Derek standing in front of him.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be missing?” Stiles asked in a small voice, clutching the locket to his chest.

“Scott agreed to help me by taking you around the places we went together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I wanted to jog your memory.” He smiled. “Remind you of how I fell in love with you. You seemed to have forgot.”

“But you didn’t want. You don’t like me.” Stiles protested mainly out of confusion, finding it hard to process what Derek was saying.

“You’re right. I don’t like you. I am, in fact, in love with you. Completely, irreversibly and unapologetically.”

“You love me?” Stiles whispered, still half convinced it wasn’t possible.

“How could I not.”

“But last night.”

“I was too shocked by the fact that I was about to get everything I wanted to respond. You pulled away before I’d recovered. I’m not used to having nice things. Not used to letting myself.”

“What changed?”

“I fell in love with you. Hopelessly. And I don’t know how, nor ever want to stop.” He answered simply, Stiles felt like the sun was trying to burst out of his chest. This was actually happening.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Derek smiled one of his big smiles, eyes crinkling and ridiculous bunny teeth showing. He stepped forward and scooped Stiles up in his arms, kissing him like his life depended on it. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and he held him up easily as he began to devour Stiles’ mouth. It hadn’t even been five days but god had he missed this.

Stiles could feel Derek hardening through his pants and knew Derek would definitely be able to feel him too. Derek pulled on his hair, just the way he liked and Stiles moaned into his mouth.

“We probably shouldn’t have sex in the middle of the preserve. Someone might see us. I’m fairly certain the cops check around here for underage drinking al lot. And I’d rather not get arrested for public indecency by one of my dad’s deputies.” Stiles gasped, between kisses.

“Technically, this is still Hale land.” Derek pointed out, licking Stiles’ neck.

“So you mean, really it’s just your back yard. Not a public place and therefore fair game for you.”

“Precisely.” Derek answered, voice low and slightly muffled from the way his face was buried in Stiles’ neck.

“Well in that case…” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at Derek and he huffed out a laugh that quickly turned into a groan as Stiles slipped his hand past his belt.

 

                                                                                                                 

**Author's Note:**

> If you read the whole way through that then you're the bee's knees ;) Come harass me on [tumblr](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I will take prompts for various ships if you want, you just have to be prepared to deal with my mad procrastinating, message me on tumblr if you fancy trusting me with one :)
> 
> Thank you in general cause you're awesome :D


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